The End
by NobleAndAncientLineBlack
Summary: Sacrifices need to be made in a war and Danny Potter has always been willing to make the necessary ones. But when the ultimate sacrifice is demanded of her, which will make her lose all that she has fought so hard for, her loyalty might not be as unwavering as her brother needs it to be. SEQUEL TO 'PARALLEL LIVES', 'OUR RESISTANCE' & 'UNCHOSEN'
1. The Bucket List

_I've finally published the first chapter of the next part of the series. Finally! This chapter was so damn hard to write because of the way I left things at the end of Unchosen. I didn't want to rush things but I also didn't want to utterly depress you guys. I hope I found a decent and realistic balance because this chapter kind of sets the tone for the rest of this part of the series, which will also be the last part. I expect it to be shorter than the previous one. I'm thinking_ _20 chapters but my stories tend to live a life of their own and this one might suddenly decide to be longer than that. I guess we'll see where it takes me._

 _I still want to thank everyone who's made it this far with Danny and me. I love hearing what you think of it and watch that favourite and alert number go up. Thank you for reading this story. I hope you'll continue to do so until the end of The End._

 **Chapter 1**

" _As light and dark collide…"_

The whisper seems to come from deeper within the forest. The fog makes it impossible to see anything over three feet away. The woman this voice belongs to, whoever she is, doesn't seem to be anywhere too close to me.

" _The second part of a chosen whole determines victory."_

"Hello?" I call out to her. "Is anyone there?"

I don't think she heard me for her words aren't an answer to my question. Perhaps I need to get closer.

" _The home of the soul returns,"_

"Hello?" I repeat, going deeper into the forest where I think she must be.

To my right, I see a dark figure standing amongst the trees. At first glance, I assumed it was another rock but it's moving. It has to be the woman.

" _And in exchange for life before the close,"_

The figure doesn't move as I run up to her. The woman has her back to me but slowly turns around when I grab her by the shoulder.

"Harry?"

I gasp as the person I thought was the woman from the prophecy turns out to be my brother. He has the blankest expression I've ever seen on his face and stares at me with dead eyes as he opens his mouth and out comes the woman's voice.

" _The power to vanquish the Dark Lord shall thrive in his marked equal."_

He doesn't respond to me calling his name. Instead he smiles, in a way that belongs on Voldemort's face more than it does on his, and raises his wand.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The green beam of light marks the end of my dream. I scream and gasp as I wake again, not in the Forbidden Forest but in my own bed, tangled up in my sheets. I frantically throw them off me as breath comes in short sobs and I need to remind myself it was just a dream. The same dream I've been having every night, for the past three weeks. But just a dream. It is not a forebode of what's to come. It's not real.

"Danny?" I look up, only now noticing that the door to my bedroom is open and in the doorway stands the object of my nightmares. "You were shouting out my name."

"I-" I choke. "It… it was just a bad dream."

Albeit a repetitive one that drives me insane.

"You have been having a lot of those lately," Harry sounds like he might be frowning at that.

"There are a lot of bad things to dream about."

The supposed prophecy I heard at the end of the school year being the main one.

"Do you need me to-"

"No," I quickly say. No matter what it is he was offering, I don't want it. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" He steps further into my room. "Because yo-"

"Go away!" I snap at him.

The approaching footsteps stop and even though I can't see his expression in the dark, I'm sure it's hurt. I realise he's just trying to help, but I don't want him here.

"Okay," He retreats back to the hallway. "Goodnight, Danny."

He closes the door, trapping me in complete darkness again, alone. I heave a sigh before falling backwards on the bed, shivering now that I've gotten rid of my sheets and the night sweat has dried on my skin, staring at the ceiling I can't see.

This is the 23th time I've had this dream since we left Hogwarts. And every single time it takes me by surprise how alarmingly real it feels. Like I really was just transported from my bed into the Forbidden Forest. As soon as I wake up, I know it's not real. I wasn't there, those words weren't Harry's and he did not try to kill me. But in every dream lies a bit of truth. What this nightmare is trying to tell me is not hard to figure out.

"In exchange for life," I whisper into the dark.

The words those woman spoke three weeks ago have not stopped haunting me, during the night and the day. I know them by heart.

 _As light and dark collide, the second part of a chosen whole determines victory. The home of the soul returns, and in exchange for life before the close, the power to vanquish the Dark Lord shall thrive in his marked equal._

There are only so many things it can mean and while I'm confused as to what 'the home of the soul returns' and 'the close' means, it is quite clear that I will have to die. It doesn't say why, or how, or when, unless you consider 'before the close' to be specific enough. All I know is that my life has to be forfeited. Whether that means I'll die as a means to motivate Harry to the end, or if I will die saving my brother so that he can finish the quest we started on together, or if I have to die to destroy a Horcrux – we don't really know yet how to destroy them – or if a Death Eater will eventually get his hands on me. My consciousness makes it look so simple. I have to die so that Harry can defeat Voldemort and in my nightmare it is him that fires the spell to kill me. He would not hurt me but knowing he could be the reason I have to die, makes me so angry at him. I haven't been able to look him in the eye since we've returned from Hogwarts. How do you look at someone who you know will be the end of you?

It might also all not be true. The woman in the pensieve's memory is someone I've never met before so there's no proof whatsoever that she's a reliable source. She might not even be a real Seer, she could just have been making all that stuff up. Of course there is the fact that Dumbledore himself confirmed my suspicions about what that prophecy meant. Though it wasn't really Dumbledore, just a painting. What does paint know about my destiny?

But if the whole thing is some elaborate hoax – which I desperately hope it to be – why would Dumbledore, the real one when he was still alive, steer me in the direction of that memory, claiming that it contained the answer to what my role in this tale would be. Somehow this wasn't really what I had in mind. Yes, I wanted to save Harry, and I may at some point have claimed to do it at any cost, but maybe this is a price that even I'm not willing to pay.

I wish there's someone who could explain the entire thing to me, reassure me that 'in exchange for life' doesn't mean I have to die. That perhaps it simply means that my life will just be have to put on hold while we try to defeat the darkest wizard alive. I was planning on having to do that anyway so that doesn't change much. But if it means what I'm afraid it means…

Every time I convince myself that the woman's wrong, Dumbledore's wrong, I'm wrong and this isn't exactly what it sounds like, I remember the expression on the late Headmaster's face when we discussed the vial the first time. While his painted image wore a very close resemblance to the look during the last day at Hogwarts, the fact that the very alive, very knowledgeable Albus Dumbledore had, in hindsight, looked like he was asking an impossibly painful thing from me leaves very little doubt in my mind that no matter how much I pretend it isn't so, my life really does have to end.

And that scares me. Wouldn't that scare anyone? As much as I've always claimed to be willing to sacrifice my life for my brother, it's another thing entirely knowing for a certainty that's what you have to do. And I'm not sure I can do it.

Most nights I can't fall asleep after the nightmare but lately, more often than not, I do somehow wake up a couple hours later. I'm sure it should be blamed on the worryingly small amount of sleep I've been having these past few weeks but I'm just glad to slip into a dreamless sleep once in a while.

At least today there's something to look forward to for a change – all we've done since leaving Hogwarts is staying inside the house while our parents are off doing their duties for the Order of the Phoenix now that they too have lost their leader and I've been trying to keep my distance from my brother in the close proximity we are limited to now – because today is uncle Remus' wedding day.

After Tonks pretty much screamed out her undying love for him at the Hospital Wing, everything just switched into high gear. He put his issues about his age, his wealth, his lycanthropy behind him and even though it required a lot of pressuring from both Tonks and my mother, he asked her to marry him. That was last week and they've somehow managed to throw together a small wedding in such a short period of time. It will just be the bride and groom of course, and their families. Uncle Remus' parents passed away many years ago but my parents, Harry and I are just as much family so that makes it a wedding party of six guests. It will be very small and intimate, a stark contrast to the Weasley-Delacour wedding we'll be attending a week later.

I'm happy for Remus, I really am but happiness has been a bit of a foreign concept to me these days. I can't actually feel happy, knowing that this happiness, and everything else I can feel, is limited by how much time I have left. I feel like I have a terminal disease and am just counting the days I have left instead of making them count.

Knowing I won't fall back asleep after the nightmare, especially since I already had three hours of sleep yesterday, I get up and tiptoe downstairs. I don't know what to do with all this free time on my hands lately. I've read every book I've ever wanted to read this summer but even that can only distract me from what always occupies my mind so long. About ten days into the holidays, after having cried and screamed and begged not to die – all quietly in my own head – I thought that I should have a bucket list. That's what people do when they realise life eventually comes to an end and don't want to be left with regrets. So that's what I did, in an uncharacteristic acceptance of defeat. I grabbed quill and ink and wrote down _Danny Potter's bucket list_. It started with me summing up all the books I had bought but never got to reading. I figured I'd start small. I mulled it over for a while and then wrote down _turning seventeen_. That's a very significant age for any wizard or witch, even when they do still have an entire lifetime after it. It marks the start of adulthood and in a couple of days I'll be a child no more. That used to be a thing I looked forward to, to be a grown-up. Now I'd give anything to not age and be someone who can depend on her parents to fix her issues. But I fear this isn't something they can take off my shoulders. I can barely accept myself what Dumbledore is telling me to do from the grave, there's no way I can tell my parents that their only daughter is walking into her own grave by following their son.

So the next point on my bucket list won't be a hard one… I hope. I'll get to cross it off in a couple of days, I'm sure I can make it a couple more days. After some hesitation I also added _turning eighteen_ to the list. I'd like to add nineteen and twenty and twenty-five and so old I can barely get out of my bed without breaking anything anymore but I guess in my case that would be greedy. If I could just turn eighteen, that'd be good. I'd really like another year.

I haven't really added anything else after that. I think defeating Voldemort is something that should definitely belong on a bucket list. Perhaps not mine though, because I know where that would leave me. As I've thought about other things I'd like to do before the end, I realise all my goals are long-term and that's exactly what I can't have anymore. If there was more time, and unfortunately I know there isn't, I guess I would add the following.

 _Graduate Hogwarts_

 _Become a Magizoölogist_ (despite me loving Potions, since neither of them is an option anymore I guess I can admit to myself that I do prefer Magical Creatures over Potion Ingredients, career-wise)

 _Have my own place_

 _Fall in love again_

 _Fall out of love first, or make Cedric love me again. Either is good… but much preferably the latter_

 _Make amends_

 _Create a family of my own_

Then I realised it's stupid to fantasize about things I know I can't have anymore and I tossed the bucket list into the bin.

I should spend my time thinking about the things I can have, what I can be. I'll never be anyone's wife or boss or mother but I can be that brave Gryffindor girl who died for the cause or the most amazing sister in the world who gave her life for her brother. Those are pretty heroic names to go by but compared to accomplishing all the things on my sincere bucket list, it's just nowhere near enough.

That makes me angry, not being able to have things I took for granted that I'd eventually have one day. Isn't it ironic that I wasted last year fighting and cutting Cedric out of my life for making plans for the future while that should have been a mute point since I don't even have a future to fight about. It's so funny it makes me want to punch a hole in the wall. That might alert my family that there's something wrong though.

I couldn't tell them. I can't even say it out loud, let alone to them. Perhaps they wouldn't believe it, or maybe they would and try to persuade me not to get involved in this war as a measure to keep me safe. I wish I could let them do that but I can't. Wouldn't it be the most selfish thing I ever did, not dying when I know it would mean victory on Harry's end? That the world could escape it's dark demise if only one girl can put millions of lives before hers? Besides, letting my family stop me means letting them know what Dumbledore told me. I don't think I can do that. How do you tell the people who love you that you're going to die? Maybe I just want to spare them the agony of knowing what's coming, take away a small part, however small, of the pain my death would cause them. I guess I can do that much for them.

I'm sure they've noticed my awful, solemn attitude these past few weeks but I assume they're blaming it on the massive blow we suffered through the loss of Dumbledore like it is for all of them. Harry's been very moody and depressed as well. It has not been a good couple of weeks at the Potter household. Then again, I'm certain it's the same for many wizarding families these days. I wouldn't know. I haven't really kept in touch with anyone. Wayne has written me a letter, telling me about his summer and how his family feels so very unsafe. I suppose we all do these days. Noah wrote to me, as did Charlotte, asking me if I could spend a couple of days in France during the summer. I told them I couldn't, and that was hard. Though the war requires me to be here right now, I'm fully aware this might mean I'll never see them again. Until the war is done, I can't travel safely to France and once the war is done, I'll be gone. I would love to see them again before that but perhaps I'd just burst into tears if I do. I've always been terrible at keeping things from Noah, regardless of whatever distance between us.

I've received one other letter. Three days ago an owl I didn't know landed on my windowsill and wouldn't leave until I had petted it multiple times and declared it the most beautiful owl I had ever seen. It wasn't that hard to realise the owl belonged to Blaise Zabini. The note he send me – it really wasn't long enough to deserve the status of letter – contained only one sentence.

 _At least you're a woman of your word, Potter._

That's the closest I'll ever get to a thank you from the guy. Coming from him, that was massive praise. I hadn't actually expected to hear from him again after I send him the documents back. I didn't feel good about going behind my dad's back about it but I did give Zabini my word, no matter what it was he'd ask of me. And since my dad has done most of his work at home now that the ministry has become a place for crazy people under Rufus Scrimgeour, it was actually surprisingly easy to get my hands on his seal. So easy, I was afraid an alarm would go off as soon as I touched it. It didn't and to this day my dad has no idea I forged his approval. Let's hope he'll never find out.

Even though I already had more than enough sleep for one night – by the adjusted standards of this particular summer – I do somehow fall asleep asking myself where Zabini is right now and whether or not I should be doing the same thing and flee from England and leave this entire mess behind for someone else to figure out.

"Danny?" I wake again to someone softly shaking me awake.

Perhaps it is best to wake up now, it wouldn't do well to have a new nightmare on the living room couch. I rub my eyes before opening and looking up at my mother.

"What are you doing, sleeping on the couch?" She frowns.

"I couldn't sleep," I tell her as I sit up, stretching my arms over my head.

"I can see that," She smiles softly.

"Guess I was more tired than I thought. What time is it?"

"Still pretty early. I was going to make breakfast before waking you guys. We don't have to be at Andromeda and Ted's place for another three hours."

"Need some help?"

"That would be nice, yes."

So I help my mother prepare breakfast before she goes upstairs to wake my dad and my brother. By the time they get downstairs, my father is giddy like a high school boy over his best friend's wedding day. Despite my opposite mood because of obvious reasons, I can't help but let his excitement rub off on me. By the time I have to get ready for the wedding, I'm actually kind of looking forward to is.

My dad, Marauder till the day he dies, thought it would be a great idea if we showed up in gold and red outfits as a tribute to ours and Remus' House, as well as a possible slight to the fact that Tonks herself was a Hufflepuff at Hogwarts. It's silly but I think uncle Remus will appreciate it. My mom went along with it, probably just happy to see dad excited about something again.

We agreed that me and my mom would wear gold, seeing as her hair would clash horribly with red, leaving my dad and Harry to dress up in ridiculously red formal robes that I think might have been designed by George and Fred Weasley.

As I get into my soft golden strapless dress with a sash around the middle, and look for my black pumps that could be anywhere, I hear a sigh come from the doorway.

"What?" I frown as I see the dejected look on my father's face.

"You don't look like a girl at all," He sighs.

What? I glance down at my own look. I'm wearing a dress for goodness sake, high heels as soon as I can locate them and my curly black hair has grown way past my shoulders. How do I not look like a girl?

"He meant you look very grown up, dear," My mother explains when she sees my confusion.

"Too fast," He mutters under his breath when he turns around to go downstairs. "Growing up too damn fast."

"This might be a good time to warn you that your father tends to get a bit emotional and nostalgic during weddings," Mom smirks. "I'd prepare myself for a 'my little girl' speech sometime during the day if I were you."

Great, just what I need. My dad getting all teary eyed about the fact that I'm getting older while I know I'm not going to get much older than this.

"Are you ready?" My mother prevents my mind from going down some pretty dark roads.

"I just need my shoes, I'll be right down."

I eventually find them buried underneath my bed – no idea how they even got there, then again I've had some angry destructive fits since I returned home – and go downstairs to apparate to the Tonks' house with the rest of my family. Me and Harry aren't seventeen yet so we couldn't participate in the apparition examination at Hogwarts last year, not that we could have succeeded if we did. I think we both had too much on our minds last year to actually set our minds on being able to apparate. That's why now we're forced to side-apparate with our parents which is not a pleasant experience.

We arrive far removed from the actual house but these days everyone has strongly repellent wards. You're stupid if you don't. So we have to walk a fair bit before actually arriving.

"Who is it?" Uncle Remus voice comes from the other side of the oak door after my dad knocked.

"It's your best man, Moony," My dad smiles even though the groom can't see it through the wood.

"What was the first thing you said to me?"

"Jeezus, Moony, who the hell remembers that?"

"Prongs?"

"Fine. I said you looked like coming up the flight of stairs killed you or at the very least should have."

"James!" Lily gently slaps my dad as a scolding.

Terrifying as it is that we apparently now have to ask personal questions before opening the door, it can teach you a few new things no one dared answer before. But that's pretty much the only perk.

It seems to be the right answer because Remus turns the lock and lets us in. As soon as he gets a good look at us, he bursts out laughing. We must look pretty ridiculous. Nonetheless it's kind of nice to see him laugh like that. For a man about to marry the woman he loves, he's been very gloomy this past week. I don't think Tonks is to blame for that though.

"This has Prongs written all over it," He smiles as he lets us get inside.

"Well, it's not like we objected either, Remus," My mom says.

"Harry looks like he objected," He glances at Harry who does look mighty uncomfortable in his bright red dress robes. "You all look great. Come on in."

The first one to greet us as we walk into the very spacious living area is an older man I'm assuming is Ted Tonks, Nymphadora's dad. Unless her mom is extraordinarily manly. But I'm assuming the mother is off somewhere helping her daughter get ready for her wedding day. That's what mothers do then, right?

"Good to see you again, James, Lily," He shakes my parents' hands before doing the same to me and my brother. "Nice to finally meet you, Harry, Danny. Your parents never shut about you, neither does this one by the way."

Remus doesn't even pretend he never gushes about us. Just urges the entire family plus Ted to the backyard where the ceremony will be held. A wizard in long black dress robes seems to have made all the preparations for the wedding. It's a quick and quiet affair. Tonks walks downstairs, her dad doesn't walk her down the aisle because there isn't an aisle to walk down to. She's wearing a very simple white dress that makes her purple hair stand out even more than it normally does. But what makes her so very radiant is the smile that she wears the entire time and that ridiculous look of happiness she directs at her husband-to-be. And even though Remus will always be a more subdued person that his bride, the look that is reflected in his eyes is quite similar to hers.

The world's a pretty shitty place with the war and the fact that Remus forcibly changes into a werewolf every full moon and that ridiculous new werewolf legislation law the Ministry past two weeks ago (another big reason for this being a quiet affair) but in just this moment it seems that both of them have forgotten it. I'm pretty sure they don't even realise there are other people present but I guess that's kind of what your wedding day is supposed to be like. I guess it's nice getting to share it with friends and family but what actually matters is that you and the person you love more than anything are bonding yourselves to each other because you can't imagine doing anything else.

This is supposed to be a happy moment. It is one and I want to be happy for my uncle who's had a pretty rough life and probably knows more about loss and grief than I do but I'm suddenly overcome with such an acute heartache that I can't possibly be glad for him in this moment. Because I want this moment. Not now of course but someday. Merlin, I really want that. I suppose I hadn't really given much thought to the possibility as I'm still only a teenager but knowing that I can't ever have that, makes me desire it so badly. I want to walk down the aisle – a proper aisle, not the flower beds in this dried out garden – and look at someone they way Tonks look at Remus. I want to forget that there are other people present. I want someone to look at me the way Remus looks at Tonks. I want to be old enough to marry someone, without it being oddly young. I want to say 'I do' in front of my family and friends. I want all of that. I want the chance to have it. I want the chance to mess it up. I want the chance to fix it. I want-

"Danny?"

I turn to Harry sitting on my right and it is only when I look at him that I realise he looks all blurry because tears had been welling up in my eyes and are now freely rolling down my cheeks. I can't even control it at this point. I'm sure Harry noticed, if the handkerchief he's holding out to me is any indication.

"I-," I hiccup as I gratefully take the handkerchief from his hand. "I'm just… very happy for them. Very happy."

That's not even the biggest lie I told today. But it is a lie. It should be the truth but instead of experiencing joy over someone I love very dearly having found what most people would do anything for, I am inconsolable over that fact that I'll never be in their shoes. That I'll be robbed of that opportunity because there's just no time. Not for me.

"I had no idea you loved weddings so much," Harry smiles weakly, looking uncomfortable in a way that has nothing to do with dad's unfortunate obligatory dress code. I don't know if he looks like that because he doesn't believe my words or if a crying girl just naturally makes him this awkward.

"Yeah," I sniffle. "I love weddings."

And so the list of things I'll never have, keeps on growing.


	2. Adulthood

_I feel kind of guilty for not updating sooner but this was seriously hard to write. It appears that unlike the previous parts of this story, this one won't be writing itself. I'll have to really squeeze it out. I just hope the next one will get updated faster. I won't be making any promises though…_

 _As always I have to express my gratitude towards_ _ **xXMizz Alec VolturiXx**_ _who is the most loyal reviewer. As for your request, I don't think I'll be writing anything in Harry's POV. He's an intriguing character for sure but I don't feel comfortable enough with him to write from his POV. Besides, this is Danny's story so of course we see it all through her eyes. I might be tempted to write something in third person somewhere down the line but this story is supposed to be only Danny's voice._

 **Chapter 2**

As I stuff my big warm jumper that looks ridiculous but is too soft and comfortable to throw out in my trunk, I realise I'm all packed up. Knowing I won't return to Hogwarts when the new school year takes off on the first of September, I didn't expect to have to use it again. But I need to be able to transport my stuff some way and so my school trunk has regained purpose. Even though it's massive, it seems way too small to fit my entire life in it. That's basically what my dad asked me to do when he told me to pack up everything I need and leave everything I can part with forever. Which means all my books have to go in there, all my clothes – even the ones I haven't worn in two years because what if someday I'll have need for rainbow shorts –, Puengi's cage and snacks which are also Fry's cage and snacks, all the letters I can't stand to part with and there are much more than I had originally thought, my photo albums because lately I've been feeling very nostalgic and I have the sense that won't lessen over time, the beautiful handmade cauldron I received from Cedric last year, whatever's left of my potions ingredients, Sirius' motorcycle (thank you, magic, because there's no way that could have fitted into my trunk without a potent shrinking spell) and a lot of other stuff I probably don't need but don't want to risk leaving behind.

In two days it will be my birthday and more importantly, it will be Harry's birthday as well, turning him into an official adult at seventeen. Meaning the ancient spell that has protected him all this time from Voldemort and Death Eaters, the protection that my grandparents created when they gave their lives to save their grandchildren won't work anymore. And even though my dad has put pretty solid protection spells around the house over the years, we're not taking the risk of having Death Eaters over. That's why we have to pack everything up and move to a safe house before the 31th of July.

Since we are both still sixteen at this moment and therefore not yet allowed to use magic outside of school – a rule I can't believe mum is making us follow since I think the Ministry has bigger fish to fry than two nearly-adults using a levitation spell – I have to drag this ridiculously heavy trunk all the way downstairs because once the heavy lifting starts, no one allowed to freely use magic seems to be around.

"Done," I sigh as I finally push my trunk next to Harry's by the front door. "Where are mum and dad?"

"Saying goodbye to the house," He nods in the direction of the living room.

Though I've tried to avoid spending too much time with my brother this summer, I'm not exactly eager to go join my parents either. Ever since they made the decision to leave before our birthday, mum has been extremely emotional, getting nostalgic over every little object in the house.

"They took the couch?" I frown as I glance into the living room.

"It's the couch dad sat on when mum told him she was pregnant."

"Ah," I nod. "And the table lamp?"

"The one they bought after you smashed the first one when you were starting to walk."

"Should I even ask about the carpet?"

"It's the one every Marauder chafed his knee on playing horse for us."

"And-"

"Let's just assume they're taking everything because at some point something happened with it," He sigh.

"And they told me I couldn't take my bed with me," I huff.

Important stuff happened with my bed as well. It's where I slept, where I shared the sheets with Cedric. Good times. It's also where I've had my nightmares, where I've wept more times than I could keep track of, even if I tried. On second thought, perhaps I should burn my bed before we go. Leave less things for the Death Eaters to destroy.

Mum and dad join us a couple seconds later. Mum's eyes are red, which I can only assume is from crying over the departure but we're all too nice to let her know we noticed. I understand how hard this is. Yes, it's just a house but it was my home, the décor to some pretty life-altering moments. I know leaving this place indefinitely makes my throat constrict, I can only imagine how much worse it is for my parents. This is the house they chose to raise their family in. Where they saw us grow up, where they experienced joy and sadness. This was home and it's hard to accept that we're leaving it to the Death Eaters to loot.

"Ready?" Dad looks at me and Harry.

When we nod, he takes out his wand and shrinks our trunks to fit into his inside pocket. Mum sniffles – we're still pretending to be oblivious to it –, throws one more longing look at the entry hall before following us outside where we take each other's hands and apparate away.

As I clench my dad's hand, probably painfully, through the apparation it's hard to figure out whether the nausea comes from the magic or because the very thought that I'll never go home again literally makes me sick.

When the world slows down again, my dad lets go of me and I take in the building in front of us. The house is completely isolated, there's isn't another one in sight and because of the open fields, they would have been easy to spot. The small cottage looks like no one's lived there for a couple of years. I can only hope magic managed to keep the inside in a better state. It did. Once I follow my parents inside, I find myself standing into a spacious living room area with access to an open kitchen and a lovely detailed wooden stairs leading to the first floor. It appears to be a really nice place to live. But it's not home.

"I'll put your trunks upstairs," Dad tells us when we've all entered our temporary new home. "Only unpack the necessary. Be ready to leave at short notice. We'll only be here a couple of days."

He goes up the stairs only to stop in the middle and turn back towards me and Harry.

"Keep your wands on you at all times," He warns. "Constant vigilance, guys."

That doesn't sound like the family vacation they tried so hard to convince us this was. We're not stupid though, we always knew what this was. The Potter family has officially gone into hiding.

We're all pretty tired, emotionally that is, so once mum made us dinner – complaining the entire time that she doesn't even have nearly the amount of stuff she has in our own kitchen – we call it an early night and retire to our new bedrooms. While the cottage is bigger on the inside than it appeared to be on the outside – thank you, magic – the first floor is a lot smaller than it is at home. The bathroom is half of ours. The master bedroom can barely fit my parents in there with the furniture and there's only one second bedroom. Meaning that while I've been trying to avoid Harry as much as I can, that ends now because we are officially roommates during our stay here.

Despite having been cute, clingy, co-dependent twins the first years of our lives, we've never really shared a bedroom since we were nearly killed in ours at one year old. Having to share one now, under these dire circumstances and as adolescents makes me dislike this cottage even more. I console myself with the knowledge that Harry isn't much of a talker and we could probably share this small space without enduring any conversations. I don't really know what to say to him these days. The fact that the beds are on opposite sides of the room – as far as they can be in this tiny bedroom – can only be beneficial to the non-talking part.

When we get ready to go to bed – Harry pretends he needs something urgently from the bathroom to give me the time to undress privately – my hopes of maintaining the silence between us are dashed. As we both slip into our new beds, he doesn't turn to the light switch to bathe the room in the darkness we need to fall asleep. Instead he looks at me expectantly while I try to ignore the fact that it's Harry's equivalent of saying 'we need to talk'.

"What?" I sigh and open my eyes again as it doesn't seem like I'll be falling asleep any time soon.

"Ever thought we didn't want to have our birthday?"

Okay… not really the conversation I was expecting. I thought he was going to call me out on the way I've snapped at him last night, and the morning before that, and the week before that. I assumed the word 'bitch' was going to be brought up. Instead he wants to take about our birthday?

"I never did like sharing a birthday," I admit. "But this time it's not because you'll steal away the spot light."

"I've never liked-"

"I know." I cut him off. "I'm just teasing."

I'm not really though. Birthdays are supposed to be fun. You get presents and birthday wishes and kisses and everyone has to be nice to you. You even get a party, dedicated to you. The one day that's all about you. Excepts that ours was never about me. It was equally Harry's and for a girl who's always had to share everything with her twin brother, especially attention and the so-called spot light, I always wished that I could have had one day that was just mine and not something to share, yet again. That's not how twins work though.

"Did you get me a present?" He smiles and for a moment he's ten years old again, telling my parents that he wants a wizarding chess board like Sirius', not the immobile muggle one our mother insists is better.

I don't want to talk to Harry because it inevitably ends up with subjects as Voldemort, Death Eaters, the war, and indirectly my impending death. However, I'm totally fine with birthday present gushing.

"Of course," I smile softly. "You better have gotten me one too."

I'll be really mad if he didn't.

"I got you a really good one," He smirks secretively and now he's gone from ten to sixteen again. Really sixteen, the way a guy his age should act and not a boy who's already faced the darkest wizard of all times five times before reaching official adulthood.

"If you're not going to tell me what it is, you shouldn't bring it up," I whine, and perhaps this time I'm ten. Then again, I've never considered myself too old to whine and pout and throw tantrums to get whatever I want. I don't think turning seventeen will change that either.

"You're right," He nods seriously and I'm actually tempted to believe he'll already tell me what it is but then he turns around and murmurs a goodnight before turning of the lights.

Lying in this new bed that is too scratchy and unfamiliar to fall asleep in, I try to focus on Harry's breathing. I can tell he's awake for almost an hour after he's turned down the lights but eventually he does manage to fall asleep. I want to make sure I don't do the same. It's one thing to have him aware of my nightmares through the wall between our rooms, I don't need him to witness me thrashing in night sweat, shouting out his name. I don't want to risk that. What if I accidentally cry out 'Don't kill me, Harry' or something along those lines? How would I explain that? I think it's better I just stay awake. I usually have big difficulties to fall asleep anyway so this will be a piece of cake.

A little after checking the hour (3 a.m.), I find myself waking up to another nightmare. However, this time it's not my own. I must have accidentally fallen asleep despite my efforts to prevent it but before I could even slip into that dreadful dream again, I wake up to find strangled noises coming from the other bed in the room. I can't see Harry in the dark but I can hear him groaning and whimpering. It doesn't take too long to figure out he's having a nightmare. I can't think of any dream worse than the one I'm constantly forced to go through but I'm sure Harry managed to come up with something equally disturbing.

For a moment, I want to just ignore him, hoping he'll stop whispering 'no' in his sleep soon. But eventually that's too cold, even for me. So I reach for my wand on the nightstand and use lumos to illuminate the room. I can see Harry lying in his bed on the other side of the room, thrashing around with a clear pained expression on his face. I certainly can't ignore that. Carefully, I slip out of my own bed to reach his. I know it's not a smart idea to startle someone out of their dreams but I'm sure he'll forgive me from sparing him such terrifying images.

I wonder what it is he's dreaming about, though I'm sure the stars in the dream are pain, fear and loss. I reach for his forehead to check if he's sweating because of the nightmare or if perhaps he's coming down with a fever but as soon as I touch him, an electric current travels from my fingertips to the rest of my body.

I am transported from the cottage to a grand dining hall which passes so quickly I can't take it all in. What does demand my attention in the small glimpse of Harry's dream is a woman, floating over the large table, hanging upside down, her tears leaking into her hair as she stares open-mouthed at the people sitting below.

" _Avada Kedavra!"_

I don't see what happens next because as soon as the green light flashes, I find myself back into the cottage, unconsciously having staggered back and crashed against Harry's nightstand. The lamp on it manages to stay upright while I fall onto the floor, bumping my hip harshly against the furniture, waking Harry up in the process.

"What?!" He gasps, quickly coming to consciousness and frowns down at me as soon as he spots me on the floor. "Danny?"

I gasp for air as well, equally affected by Harry's nightmare. Even though it wasn't my dream, I'm as shaky and frightened as I have been every night, waking up from mine. I was in his dream. I saw what he saw. That's only happened once before and had nothing to do with me touching him. I look down at my fingers that brushed his forehead. They don't look anything out of the ordinary but they still tingle painfully as though I burned them. What was that?

"Danny?" Harry repeats when I don't answer him and instead stare at my hand. By now he has switched on the table light. "What are you doing on the floor?"

"I… I tripped," I whisper with an unstable voice.

"Did I wake you up?" He frowns, looking guilty, thinking his screaming is what made me wake up and roll out of bed.

"No," I quickly say."I just forgot I wasn't in my room."

It seems like a plausible excuse, especially since the crash knocked my wand out of my hand, extinguishing the lumos, keeping him oblivious to the fact that I was actually up and awake before crashing into the night stand.

"You okay?" He slips out of his bed to help me get back on my feet. If he notices how shaky I stand on them, he doesn't comment about it.

"Yeah," I nod, unconvincingly. "I just startled. Did I wake you? I'm sorry."

Even though I'm sure the end of the dream would have been enough to wake him up, I don't think me crashing against the table helped much either.

"No," He quickly shakes his head. "I was just…"

He doesn't finish the sentence. He doesn't have to. If I hadn't seen the nightmare for myself, I would still know he just had one. I'm too familiar with that haunted look in his eyes. I've seen it there multiple times before, as well as in my own gaze.

"We should probably go back to sleep," I say eventually, when it doesn't look like he'll confide his dream in me.

"Yeah," He agreed and we both settle down in our beds.

Even though he turns off the light and we are yet again bathed in darkness and silence, neither of us falls asleep for the rest of the night.

By the time the first light shines in through the window, I decide I've been in bed long enough to pretend I still got some sleep tonight and get up. Harry pretends to be asleep when I pass by his bed and slip out of the room. Mom and dad must have actually been able to sleep or else they're just as good as pretending as their kids are but I'm somewhat relieved there's no one downstairs at this hour. It gives me the opportunity to make my own breakfast and take my mind off what happened in the middle of the night.

Me and Harry share a very weird connection that no one can explain. It's so engrained in the both of us that we never really bothered to think of it as unusual but the more time passes, the more I'm struck with the realisation that this thing between us goes beyond magical twin telepathy. Seeing what he sees through a simple touch is nothing that has ever happened before. I've had dreams that weren't dreams but actual events happening to my brother. Dumbledore called it his SOS button once and I've always kind of stuck to that belief but Harry's had countless nightmares over the years, some where I did touch him to wake him up, but what happened last night was definitely a first.

I only saw his nightmare, not an event that happened to him when he was awake, one time before this one. That was the night Arthur Weasley got attacked in the Ministry of Magic. Still, we were both asleep that time, allowing his dream to somehow slip into my own sleep. I was very much awake this time so despite the similarities between both cases, this is still very unusual, even for a twin connection as odd as ours.

If only I still had access to the Hogwarts library, I could research if anything like this ever happened between twins before. I'm pretty angry at myself right now that during all the previous years, I never bothered to look it up. How stupid am I? I should have tried to dig up information on similar cases as soon as I had that first dream about Harry going after the Philosopher's Stone. I bet Dumbledore would have known what this was, perhaps he knew all along like he did about what I'm supposed to do, but the man is dead and the dead don't talk. I find myself furious at the man once more that he had the audacity to die while we all still need him. I need him. I need someone who knows things I can't figure out on my own.

I go over the possible explanations in my head but don't come up with anything that doesn't sound like it just came out of a shitty sci-fi novel. My worthless train of thought is interrupted when my father comes down the stairs.

"Danny?" He looks surprised at my early rising.

Normally I love sleeping in but this summer has taught me that being awake is a better state of being. It still allows my mind to dwell on things I'd rather just forget but it's still a bit of an improvement… I think.

"I couldn't sleep," I admit. "Are you leaving on Order business?"

"Just for while," He sits down at the table and I get back up to make him an omelette as well. "I'll be back before noon. I've got some last minute arrangements to make."

I nod even though his explanation isn't exactly specific.

Dad told us this cottage is just a temporary arrangement, meaning he is planning to move us somewhere else soon. Wherever it is, it isn't home. And I'm sure that in the making of the plans concerning where the Potter family will live now, he didn't keep in account that Harry and I intend to leave on a Horcrux Hunt sometime soon. We haven't really discussed it – a side effect of not talking to my brother in the first place – but it was made pretty clear last year that Harry intends to finish Dumbledore's mission and I intend to accompany him. Though I've received some pretty significant information since then, I haven't told him yet that I'm not going with him. I don't even know myself if I am or not. Going means I'll be stuck like glue to the person I know plays a key role in my impending death, making being away from him probably a safer alternative. But not going means I'm sending my brother on a suicidal mission by himself (though Granger and Weasley are people I might actually trust my brother with, I know I won't be at ease if it isn't me). Can I really let him go, knowing something awful and lethal is going to happen to him that only I could prevent? I don't know what to do. I haven't known what to do in quite a while and that was never a problem before. In other aspects, sure. I've been very lost in other facets of my life but when it comes down to my brother, I've always been willing to make any sacrifice necessary to protect him. I just don't know if that's still the case.

"Keep an eye on your mother today, will you?" Dad asks me as he finished his breakfast. "She could use a distraction."

Can't we all?

I tell him I'll keep her properly distracted before he leaves but by the time mum and Harry come downstairs as well, she has already come up with something all by herself. So we end up cleaning the cottage from top to bottom for the entire day. Not exactly a welcome activity but at least the distraction is. I try to figure out what kind of people could have lived here before this became our hide-out but they left little personal items behind. I only found a Transfiguration book stuffed away in a drawer and Harry claimed he saw a paw print in the grass beneath the kitchen window. Other than those things, we only found dust in every crook and cranny.

Dad isn't back around noon at all, he's already missed lunch and even dinner by the time he returns. That is easily forgiven when he pulls out a birthday cake half an hour before midnight.

"It's still a celebration," Mum smiles softly as our dad places thirty-four candles on top. "And a very important one. Do you remember your seventeenth birthday, James?"

"Of course I do," He laughs. "Mum baked me a pie, which she was terrible at. Luckily dad bought extra. Scoffed down her entire pie though, just so she wouldn't feel bad. And then Sirius made-"

The laugh dies away on his face at the mention of Sirius. We all pretend not to notice. This happens all the time anyway. It still hurts too much to think back on him with only fondness. On top of that, there's hurt and anger and sadness that I'm not sure will ever disappear.

"Well, turning seventeen wasn't a specific birthday in the muggle world," My mum takes over the conversation. "We still celebrated my birthday of course but eighteen's usually the one where you're considered becoming an adult as a muggle. I don't think there are any specific birthday gifts for those though."

"Either way," Dad coughs to get our attention back. "Happy birthday, kids."

It's the saddest birthday we've ever had. That includes the one where I spend the entire night sulking because dad and our uncles were hogging our toys. At least we were all together then and in between the scowling, I laughed and smiled and had fun. This year we're not together –never will be again – and the entire 'celebration' is weighted down by the knowledge that turning seventeen leaves us more vulnerable than ever, which in turn reminds us of why we're in this cottage instead of our home in Godric's Hollow.

"Make a wish." Mum winces when she realises it doesn't sound as hopeful as it did when we turned seven.

I suck in a deep breath, already knowing my wish of having a long life won't come true and glance sideways at my brother. We used to do this together every year, me always trying to blow out as many candles as I could so my wish would be stronger than his and he in turn would try to boycott my plan. But this year we don't believe in wishes anymore so we slowly blow out seventeen candles each.

"Happy birthday, Danny!" Mum plants a wet kiss on my cheek while dad does the same to Harry before they switch. "Happy birthday, Harry!"

"Thanks," I mutter as happily as I can and I believe the grumble coming from my brother must be something similar.

My parents pretend there's nothing wrong with this year's enthusiasm on getting older and getting presents. They both disappear into the kitchen before returning with two small gifts.

"I'm not one to break with tradition," Dad hands the present with blue wrapping paper to Harry who gently starts opening it.

To no one's surprise, it's a watch. It's customary for a wizard to receive one on his seventeenth birthday. It's all very sexist since there is no such tradition for witches. But at least my present will be a surprise.

"It was your grandfather's," Dad smiles softly when he catches Harry's fingers tracing the watch. "I got it polished and fixed and all of course. I know a brand new one must be flashier but I got my grandfather's watch when I turned seventeen and dad got one from his grandfather. I thought it might be nice."

It _is_ nice. If you momentarily forget that Charlus Potter probably wore it the day he sacrificed his life to save ours, it's more of a sentimental gift than it is a morbid one. I wish I got something like that as well.

"It's great," Harry smiles at him. "Thank you."

They share an awkward hug before mum puts a green paper-wrapped present in front of me on the table.

"Your turn," She smiles.

I unwrap it quicker than Harry did, probably because I don't actually know what I'm getting. As soon as the paper is gone, I'm holding a small wooden box in my hand. When I open it, it reveals a bracelet with deep red, almost brown, beads being held together by golden thread covering them.

"I figured we could start a tradition of our own. A witch deserves a watch too," She smiles cautiously, hoping I'll agree that there shouldn't be a difference between boy and girl in this regard. "But Mrs Potter never wore a watch and my mother didn't leave me one either. So I improvised. The bracelet was my mother's, your grandmother's, but I charmed it."

She gently taps the three first beads with her finger.

"Eighteen minutes past midnight, thirty-first of July nineteen ninety-seven."

My mother lips aren't moving but that was clearly her voice. I look down at the bracelet in wonder. It might not be something I would have bought for myself but knowing it used to belong to my grandmother makes it just as nice and sentimental as Harry's old new watch. The fact that my mother charmed it to tell me time, makes it even better.

"I had to use a voice for the charm. If you want to, you can change it to yours or-"

"Thank you," I quickly tell her before she changes the voice in the bracelet. "This is… thank you."

I still get a present from Harry (a book on dragons, which earns him the stink eye from our mother) and I give one to him ( a foe-glass, which in hind sight was the most useful and improper gift I've ever gotten him because the glass will constantly show evil since every dark wizard out there is trying to kill him) but we're both more occupied admiring our parents' presents than anything. It really is a great gift. Perhaps seventeen won't be too horrible an age?

None of us are in a very festive mood so as soon as the cake runs out, we bid each other goodnight. I take a quick shower before bed because somehow turning older, made me feel tainted. The shower didn't help. By the time I've finished up in the bathroom and return to our shared bedroom, Harry has packed all his belongings back up in his trunk.

"What are you doing?" I frown at him, lowering the towel I was drying my hair with.

I thought we were getting ready for bed – giving me the first opportunity to legally use magic outside of school with a simple drying spell – but Harry looks like we're going on the move again. Dad didn't say anything about moving exactly one hour after turning seventeen, right? I thought we had at least tonight to sleep semi-peacefully before Fleur and Bill's wedding tomorrow. I don't know if we'll come back here again afterwards but Harry looks ready to leave right this instant. He's wearing his travelling coat for goodness' sake!

"We're leaving," He nods firmly like we had somehow planned this all along. "You're still coming, right?"

He looks at me the way he did when we were eleven and I had just told my family I wouldn't go to Hogwarts and he had looked at me, terrified of going somewhere without me, begging me with his eyes to go wherever he goes. I wish I could let him go without me. I slowly nod, not really getting that by letting him know that I do intend to keep my promise to him, I will have to go with him.

"Good," He flicks his wand in the direction of my own trunk that quickly starts packing itself. "It's probably best to wait an hour, to be sure mum and dad are asleep. I'd risk it now but I heard dad go to the loo only seven minutes ago. We'll take the knight bus, seeing as neither of us can apparate. That would be best, I think. I thought about leaving a note, but I couldn't think of anything comforting. Do you think we should leave a note?"

Is he serious? This doesn't even sound like a plan, just a string of thoughts he didn't think through.

"You want to leave right now?" I frown.

I wasn't expecting it so fast. I thought I'd at least get one more night here, before going to the wedding and having to worry about playing nice with everyone, not how we're going to get ourselves a horcrux. I'm not ready to panic about that just yet.

"Yes. Now that we're seventeen, we can use magic without being traced." He looks at me like I'm stupid for even asking because of course we are leaving right this instant.

"That doesn't mean we have to leave the very second we become adults!"

"Why not? Why would we prolong what we know has to happen?"

I know he doesn't mean to strike a nerve but he does. His words tear painfully through my heartstrings, telling me unknowingly that knowing I should die means I should just get it over with. I can feel myself tear up but I think Harry might just consider it me getting emotional about leaving our parents without a proper goodbye.

"What-" I choke. "What about Granger and Weasley? How are we going to get to them?"

He suddenly looks very uncomfortable, glancing at my trunk that had now closed itself, ready to get on the road, unlike its owner.

"I don't want them to come with us," He admits in a whisper.

"Why?" I frown.

That seems like an argument I'd make, not the person who dragged those two with him to the third-floor corridor in chase of the Philosopher's Stone and the Ministy of Magic by night.

"It's my fight," He says a bit stronger. "My burden."

It shouldn't be. I don't know how to stress it out even more than I already have. He doesn't have to be The-Boy-Who-Lived, just like I don't have to be The-Girl-Who-Died but neither burden came with a choice. Not really.

"We need them," I point out the obvious because no matter how much I don't want to go on this Horcrux hunt, I want to do it even less if it's without them. "Granger's crazy smart and she can apparate. Even Weasley has his vices. We could use a brave idiot like that."

Even though with Harry we've already got one.

"I don't want-"

"It's not your choice!" I cut him off. "It's theirs. You said they could come with you last year and if you tell them not to, you should at least look them in the eye while leaving them behind. We're not running like cowards in the night."

"But-"

"I'm not moving. I want to at least attend Bill and Fleur's wedding."

Fuck their wedding, to be honest. It's never mattered less to me than right now. But a part of me, a very ugly, selfish darkness, hopes for Harry to take the alternative route that I'm offering here and leave without me. So that the choice is gone for me to make and the prophecy cannot be fulfilled.

"After the wedding," He says. "I'll talk to Hermione and Ron, and we leave after the wedding."

I nod in consent, biting back bitter tears he doesn't notice because Harry did not make this choice for me. I needed him to make that choice for me because no matter how much I just want to walk away from all this, I know I'll never do it myself.


	3. Dumbledore's Will

_This chapter is a little shorter than usually but I just felt it was a good moment to end it so that all the other things I still wanted to inlcude here can form a chapter on their own. A lot of this chapter is recycled words from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows as I'm sure you can tell. Only Danny is of my own making. And still it took me this long to update..._

 _Big shout-out to **xXMizz Alec** **VolturiXx** ,as always. This story doesn't get a lot of response so sometimes it's hard to stay motivated. That makes me appreciate your support even more!_

 **Chapter 3**

That hideous, egotistical side of me rears its ugly head once more when I wake up and find myself disappointed by discovering the sleeping form of my brother in the bed next to mine. A part of me wanted him to sneak out in the middle of the night by himself, setting me free of the responsibility to protect him. As soon as the thought crosses my mind, I hate myself for it. Harry didn't ask for me to make any sacrifices for him in the past and if he was aware of the prophecy, he would have snuck out and left me behind in an attempt to keep me safe. I know that and yet I still can't find it in myself to be glad, even just a little bit, that he doesn't want to do this without me the way he was willing to do it without his two best friends. Choosing me has never made me angrier.

Before I do something as irrational and unfair as hex him for not leaving me behind, I get up and take another shower. Still, the taint of being seventeen and wishing my brother had left doesn't come off. I scrub hard enough though.

I have breakfast before getting ready for the wedding. After I put the finishing touch on my outfit – a pale purple dress with a high collar but an open back, in combination with pearl-white open-toed heels and my new time-telling bracelet, I try to tame my hair by pulling it into a loose side braid. I look good, I suppose, but I've never felt more appalling on the inside. I stupidly fear that Harry will see what I thought this morning by simply looking at me. It makes it impossible for me to make eye-contact with him, not even when he asks me to make sure to shrink both our trunks and put them in my clutch bag. It weighs ridiculously heavy but that's nothing a quick charm can't fix. If only guilt worked the same.

We will be going to The Burrow much earlier, before the arrival of any other guests. Somehow, mother got us roped into helping out with the preparations. I suspect she's just in dire need of an excuse to leave this place that isn't ours.

As soon as we apparate as closely to the Weasley house as we can, the father of the whole bunch runs up to welcome us. I'm sure he was expecting us but he looks flustered and uncomfortable nonetheless. We were invited, right?

"Arthur, is something wrong?" My father immediately tightens the grip on his wand, ready to attack whatever got Arthur looking like this.

"We have a surprise visitor," He frowns.

That's it? You just add an extra chair and you're good. And yet, I can't imagine Arthur Weasley freaking out over someone brining an unexpected plus one. His wife, sure. But not him.

"Who is it?" My mother asks.

"Scrimgeour."

"The Minister of Magic?" Mum gasps but dad doesn't seem to be as surprised as she is.

"He's here for Harry, isn't he?"

Of course he is. He tried convincing my brother once before to join his side into pacifying the crowd and telling them all will be okay and we should all have complete faith in the Ministry. Is he here to try it again?

"Yes," Arthur Weasley looks surprised at my father guessing correctly.

"He's been trying to get invited to my home for weeks now, getting more and more incessant," Dad sighs angrily. "How did he know we'd be here?"

I'm sure the Weasleys have pretty complicated protection spells in place as well, to keep unwanted guests out, like Death Eaters. Perhaps the spells should have included protection against shady Ministry officials as well.

"He heard about the wedding through Percy," Let's all just ignore the fact that we all know the third eldest son won't be attending his big brother's wedding, for reasons we don't need to rehash. "He figured you would be here, already showed up once yesterday actually."

"What does he want?" My mother asks a very good question.

He can't possibly think that Harry changed his mind.

"To read Albus' will."

My heart stops for a nano second and I'm delusional enough to think I can feel Harry's do the same.

Albus Dumbledore left a will. And for some reason Harry's in it. Maybe it's a clue, a path to start on. If I'm going to be really optimistic, I might even hope he left us a couple of horcruxes. That would certainly save us the search. But whatever it is, it's important enough that Dumbledore left it to my brother. Something that can help him fulfil his destiny by himself.

"Finally!" My dad exhales. "They've been holding on to it for as long as they could. Let's go hear what it says."

"Can't." Arthur Weasley shakes his head. "Only people mentioned in the will can be present."

"Let me guess: Harry?" Dad sounds kind of angry but I suppose I would be too when people keep insisting your barely adult son should be more involved than a hard-trained auror.

"And Danny."

Wait, what?

I look at him in shock, as do my parents. Am I… mentioned in Dumbledore's will?

"Scrimgeour wants to see both of them, as well as Ronald and Hermione. They're waiting on you guys in the living room."

None of them seem to be very happy to leave the Minister of Magic alone with their children but I feel a wild sort of hope flare up in my chest. I'm in Dumbledore's will, meaning there's something he wants to entrust me with, other than the damning prophecy. Perhaps it's a letter that says the whole thing is wrong? I know it's a long shot but I would do anything to have that be included in the will.

"I'm not leaving that man alone with my kids," Our mother frowns.

Who is she calling kids? We're legal adults now, which I'm sure Scrimgeour made sure of before trying to talk to use in private.

"Let's go see what he has to say," I start off in the direction of the Burrow when no one else seems to have the intention to do so.

"Danny?!" Mum gasps.

"We'll tell you guys right after anyway and it's not like he's going to kidnap us." We'll leave that to the Death Eaters. "Let's just get this over with."

It's pretty clear my mum, nor my dad, is happy about the situation but they don't try to stop us when me and Harry step into the Burrow's living room area. Granger and Weasley are already sitting there, looking mighty uncomfortable in the presence of the Minister of Magic. The man himself narrows his eyes at me and my brother when we enter the room, as if we had been interrupting something important. By the looks of it, it was an interrogation because Weasley looks absurdly pleased to see us and I know he spotted me as well.

"Wonderful," Scrimgeour says with such a grim face, I'm sure it's anything but. "Everyone is present. I have some questions for the four of you, and I think it will be best if we do it individually. If you three, can wait upstairs, I will start with Ronald."

No way. No one is going to suffer through a one-on-one interrogation with that man, not even Weasley.

"We're not going anywhere," I quickly say and by the agreeing nods, I'd say the fellow three were just thinking the exact same thing.

"You can speak to us together, or not at all," Harry tells the man sternly.

Scrimgeour gives him a cold glare for that comment but my brother is actually holding his own in the glaring competition, if not winning.

"Very well then, together," Scrimgeour shrugs like he had been fine with that arrangement the entire time. "I am here, as I'm sure you know, because of Albus Dumbledore's will."

Even though we had most definitely not been aware of that a couple of minutes ago, none of us show any sign of surprise. I'm sure he had hoped to shock us with that.

"Dumbledore died over a month ago," I point out because that's how long I've been suffering restless nights and troublesome days. "Why has it taken this long to give us what he left us?"

I could have used whatever he left me in his will probably during that month. Perhaps it could have even given me some peace of mind.

"It's obvious," Granger answers instead. "They wanted to examine whatever he's left us. You had no right to do that!"

"I had every right," The man dismisses the protest. "The Decree for Justifiable Confiscation gives the Ministry the power to confiscate the contents of a will-"

"That law was created to stop wizards passing on Dark artefacts," Of course Granger knows this. "and the Ministry is supposed to have powerful evidence that the deceased's possessions are illegal before seizing them! Are you telling me that you thought Dumbledore was trying to pass us something cursed?"

"Are you planning to follow a career in Magical Law, Miss Granger?" Scrimgeour ignores what she actually said.

"No, I'm not. I'm hoping to do some good in the world."

That draws a laugh from Weasley. I would do the same because that was a really good burn but I know she was actually serious. Whatever career path she chooses, and I just came to the realisation that I have no idea what has her preference, I know she'll use it to fight for making this world a better one. Just look at what she's done in the past. Of course S.P.E.W. was a bit misguided since most house elves don't desire freedom or a pay but when Granger sees an injustice in the world, she wants to fight it with all her might. I quite admire her for that, even though I'd never tell her. I'm sure she'll do great things and I never realised before that I would have loved to see that. I already know I won't. I'll miss out on a lot of things, including the progress and accomplishments of everyone I went to school with. It seems like such a small aspect in the grand schemes of all the things I'll never know but it makes me angry once more because I want those insignificant things too. I even want Granger to have the opportunity to rub my nose into it.

"Would you say you were close to Dumbledore, Ronald?" Scrimgeour suddenly asks Weasley who looks surprised at the question.

"Me? Not – not really… it was always Harry who…"

Stop talking! If Scrimgeour is already suspicious of the fact that Dumbledore left us all something in his will, he'll be even more so once he figures out some of us never really got close to our late Headmaster. So stop talking!

Weasley's voice wavers as soon as he gets the mental message. It must also help that all three of us are looking at him, forcing him to shut up with glares. Unfortunately, Scrimgeour already got what he wanted and picks in on Weasley's words like he's digging for gold.

"If you were not very close to Dumbledore, how do you account for the fact that he remembered you in his will? He made exceptionally few personal bequests. The vast majority of his possessions – his private library, his magical instruments and other personal effects – were left to Hogwarts. Why do you think you were singled out?"

Honestly? I hope it's because he's leaving us some kind of clues for the Horcrux Hunt, probably having assumed that Weasley and Granger would be accompanying us as well. If it's even an 'us' that's going. But we can't really tell Scrimgeour that.

"I… dunno. I… when I say we weren't close… I mean, I think he liked me."

"You're being modest, Ron." Granger to the rescue. "Dumbledore was very fond of you."

Lying it is then. I'm sure Dumbledore liked Weasley well enough, as well and me and Granger but none of us had the close, mentor-like relationship he had with Harry. He's also the only one who ever had personal one-on-one contact with the wizard. Of course, there were those lessons he gave me last year but no one will ever know that.

Scrimgeour doesn't seem like he believes us but pulls a scroll out of a drawstring pouch anyway.

"' _The Last Will and Testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore'_ … yes, here we are… ' _to Ronald Bilius Weasley, I leave my Deluminator, in the hope that he will remember me when he uses it.'"_

And then he pulls out the silver cigarette lighter with the ability to suck and restore light out of any place that was Dumbledore's Deluminator, which is now Weasley's, I suppose. It's a pretty cool thing to own, I guess, but I don't see how that's supposed to help with the Horcrux Hunt. Is that not what Dumbledore was trying to do here? He didn't just want to shove his personal belongings on us, right?

"That is a valuable item," Scrimgeour says while handing over the Deluminator to the stunned red-head. "It may even be unique. Certainly it is of Dumbledore's own design. Why would he have left you an item so rare?"

Excellent question, and one Wealsey can't seem to come up with an answer to either.

"Dumbledore must have taught thousands of students," The Minister continues. "Yet the only ones he remembered in his will are you four. Why is that? To what use did he think you would put his Deluminator, Mr Weasley?"

"Put out lights, I s'pose," He mumbles. "What else could I do with it?"

The man doesn't seem to like that answer but nor does he have any suggestions of his own so he turns back to Dumbledore's will.

"' _To Miss Hermione Jean Granger, I leave my copy of_ The Tales of Beedle the Bard, _in the hope that she will find it entertaining and instructive.'"_

Scrimgeour reaches into the pouch again to pull out an ancient-looking little book. Granger silently takes it from him and stares at it intensely. I assume it's to figure out some hidden meaning behind this book until I see silent tears filling her eyes.

"Why do you think Dumbledore left you that book, Miss Granger?"

"He..he knew I liked books," Granger says with a voice thickened by emotion.

"But why that particular book?"

Why indeed? Of all the most likely interesting books out of the Headmaster's personal library, this is the one he leaves the star pupil? Nothing rare or even valuable. This is a book you can find in nearly every wizarding home. Well, not ours because mum always found some of them unfit for children but that never stopped dad from telling us the more appropriate stories from the top of his head. I never really read any of them myself, even though I know dad altered most of them a bit. I'm fairly certain there are no stags in the original works.

"I don't know. He must have thought I'd enjoy it."

There has got to be more to these passed-down items than that, right? There still has to be something Dumbledore's trying to tell us with these.

"Did you ever discuss codes, or any means of passing secret messages, with Dumbledore?"

"No, I didn't. And if the Ministry hasn't found any hidden codes in this book in thirty-one days, I doubt that I will." Granger has shed the emotions to make room for fierce snark.

Weasley awkwardly puts his hand around Granger's shoulder in an attempt to comfort her while Scrimgeour returns to the will.

"' _To Miss Danielle Lilliane Potter,"_

My heart attempts to jump out of my chest by the mere mention of my own name. Let's see if Dumbledore left me some hope.

" _I leave my Pensieve, in the hope that it will help her seek answers and the bravery to face them.'"_

I know Scrimgeour is watching my face as he puts the stone basin on the table in front of me, looking for some kind of reaction to what Dumbledore left me. And even though I know I shouldn't show him anything, I can't help all the blood pulling out of my face and I'm straining my mouth so hard not to show the outraged scowl I feel threatening there. To see answers and the bravery to face them?! How dare he!? Even from beyond the grave he is telling me to get off my ass and go die for him and his bloody cause!? Just to ensure that I would not run away from this, that I'll certainly do what he's telling me needs to be done. Fuck him!

"You look upset," Scrimgeour can barely contain a smile himself.

"I'm touched," I lie through my clenched teeth, pretending that the tears welling up in my eyes are from grief instead of blood-boiling anger. "I always liked his pensieve."

Why wouldn't I like a permanent reminder of the prophecy that foretold Dumbledore – who knows how long ago! – my death?

"What does he mean by seeking answers?"

"I don't know," I grit out.

"And what do you believe he wanted-"

"I don't know!" I snap angrily, not as aggravated by the man in front of me as I am with the man who cruelly mentioned me in his will. "The man was an enigma. I barely understood what he meant when he was still alive to explain it, let alone this."

The Minister doesn't seem too happy about a seventeen-year old girl yelling at him like this but he clearly gets that he's not getting any explanation from me. He chooses to continue with the reading of the will over chastising me.

"' _To Harry James Potter, I leave the Snitch he caught in his first Quidditch Match at Hogwarts, as a reminder of the rewards of perseverance and skill.'"_

Even though it must be unreadable to a stranger like Scrimgeour, that's definitely disappointment I spot on Harry's face as the golden ball is pulled out of the bag as well. At least someone else doesn't like their gift either.

"Why did Dumbledore leave you this Snitch?"

"No idea. For the reasons you read out, I suppose… to remind me what you can get if you… persevere and whatever it was."

"You think this is a mere symbolic keepsake, then?"

"I suppose so. What else could it be?"

Something more than just rubbish and death threats would have been nice.

"A snitch would be a very good hiding place for a small object. You know why, I'm sure?"

My brother shrugs and I have to admit to not knowing the answer either. But as always, Granger does.

"Because Snitches have flesh memories."

I did not know that. I'm certain Harry and Weasley didn't either.

"Correct," Scrimgeour says. "A Snitch is not touched by bare skin before it is released, not even by the maker, who wears gloves. It carries an enchantment by which it can identify the first human to lay hands upon it, in case of a disputed capture. This Snitch will remember your touch, Potter. It occurs to me that Dumbledore, who had prodigious magical skill, whatever his other faults, might have enchanted this Snitch so that it will open only for you."

Harry doesn't say anything as he stares at the Snitch in the Minister's hands, probably trying to figure out how to take it without revealing what Dumbledore must have stored away in it.

"You don't say anything. Perhaps you already know what the Snitch contains?"

And for a second I wonder if maybe, he does. Perhaps the things left to us by the late Headmaster aren't random items at all. What if all of them mean something to the person who inherits them. The way I know exactly what that Pensieve means even though I pretend I don't, the other three might know exactly what Dumbledore's trying to tell them with the Deluminator, children's book and Snitch. Perhaps they've gotten one final mission from the man as well.

But then Harry tells Scrimgeour he doesn't know and I know he's telling the truth. I'd pick up on a lie coming from Harry's mouth. It's just me Dumbledore's trying to screw over from the grave then?

"Take it."

We all watch with bathed breath how Harry slowly reaches out towards the golden ball in the palm of the Minister's hand. His fingers close around it, the wings flutter and go still. Nothing happens.

So much for anything of use being left in the will. This was an utter waste of time.

"That was dramatic," Harry mocks coolly.

"That's all, then, is it?" Granger prepares herself to leave the room.

"Not quite," Scrimgeour says, who doesn't look as gleeful as he did five seconds ago. "Dumbledore left you a second bequest, Potter."

"What is it?"

More rubbish? Perhaps a little death threat of his own?

"The Sword of Godric Gryffindor."

What?

"So where is it?" Harry asks when the sword does not get pulled out of the pouch.

"Unfortunately, that sword was not Dumbledore's to give away. The sword of Godric Gryffindor is an important historical artefact, and as such, belongs-"

"It belongs to Harry!" Granger says hotly. "It chose him, he was the one who found it, it came to him out of the Sorting Hat-"

I'm not sure that makes it his though…

"According to reliable historical sources, the sword may present itself to any worthy Gryffindor. That does not make it the exclusive property of Mr Potter, whatever Dumbledore may have decided. Why do you think-?"

"Dumbledore wanted to give me the sword?" I'm sure we could have all finished that very predictable question. "Maybe he thought it would look nice on my wall."

"This is not a joke, Potter!" He growls. "Was it because Dumbledore believed that only the Sword of Godric Gryffindor could defeat the Heir of Slytherin? Did he wish to give you that sword, Potter, because he believed, as do many, that you are the one destined to destroy He Who Must Not Be Named?"

"Interesting theory," Harry says. "Has anyone ever tried sticking a sword in Voldemort? Maybe the Ministry should put some people on that, instead of wasting their time stripping down Deluminators, or covering up breakouts from Azkaban. So is this what you've been doing, Minister, shut up in your office, trying to break open a Snitch? People are dying but there's been no word about any of that from the Ministry, has there? And you still expect us to cooperate with you!"

After those words, I can't even blame the Minister for letting go of the pretence that this was just a civil conversation.

"You go too far!" He shouts, standing up to meet Harry chest to chest with his wand pressed to my brother's sternum.

"Oi!" Weasley jumps up, pulling out his own wand but is stopped in time by Harry telling him we're not students anymore and Scrimgeour can easily arrest us for such an action.

And while they're all trying to cool down without losing face, I find myself staring at the scene as some curious bystander. Rufus Scrimgeour, who we should never forget is a powerful wizard as well, just threatened my brother with his wand to his chest and I did nothing. I felt the need to do nothing and just watch it play out in front of me. I didn't jump to Harry's defence like I've done countless times before. I'm just tired of standing by his side. So dead tired. But if I'm not Harry Potter's sister, protective of him to a fault, then who am I? There's not much left.

"Remembered you're not in school, have you?" Scrimgeour breathes hard in Harry's face and still I sit by the side-lines, simply waiting for what comes next instead of deciding what it will be. "Remembered that I am not Dumbledore, who forgave your insolence and insubordination? You may wear that scar like a crown, Potter, but it is not up to a seventeen-year-old boy to tell me how to do my job! It's time you learned some respect!"

"It's time you earned it!"

When the words rumble through the room, the door suddenly opens and in step our parents and Weasley's.

"We heard voices," My father narrow his eyes in a vicious glare to the man standing threateningly close to his son.

"It-it was nothing…" The Minster steps away from my brother, seemingly realising he should have kept his cool when being provoked by a seventeen-year-old. "I… regret your attitude. You seem to think that the Ministry does not desire what you – what Dumbledore – desired. We ought to be working together."

"I don't like your methods, Minister. Remember?" Harry raises his fist to the man's face where I know he can read the scars spelling _I must not tell lies_. Scrimgeour's expression hardens before he turns away and leaves the house.

The others explain to our parents what he wanted while I find myself oddly sympathising with the man. I have no love for the Ministry, nor the man in charge of the whole operation but perhaps today I've caught a glimpse of what they see when they look at The Boy Who Lived. For the first time I didn't see my brave twin, ready to take on injustice in the world. Instead I saw a pig-headed teenager who doesn't know shit. Not someone to follow, and definitely not someone to die for.


	4. Necessary Measures

_Such silence on the other side…_

 **Chapter 4**

The entire reason we came to The Burrow hours before all the other guests did was to help with the last-minute preparations. Scrimgeour's surprise visit cut into that time but there's still some left to help the obviously stressed out Molly Weasley. Once the Minister leaves, I'm glad for the tasks the Weasley matriarch sets us on. I can tell the trio would like to talk in private about what just happened at the reading of the will. There is nothing I want less. I don't want to speculate with them why I think Dumbledore left us those precise items. I know why.

But after a while, when everything seems to be in order and there's only an hour left until the first guests will start arriving, it seems inevitable to avoid this chat.

"Let's talk," Granger nods her head in the direction of the stairs leading up to the first floor.

Merlin, I really don't want to. Every time I think about that Pensieve and more precisely the reason it was left to me, my hands start shaking in anger and I feel like smashing something. There's only so many times I can get that written off as being touched.

"You guys go ahead. Molly still wanted me to," In my panic to find some kind of excuse not to follow them up there, my eyes land on the red-head sitting at the table. "help out Ginny."

"I think that's not as importa-"

"I'll be right there," I snap at her. "I promised I'd help so I will."

I walk over to take a seat next to Ginny at the table, waiting for Granger to give up and start that awful conversation I don't want to be a part of. Perhaps they'll be all talked out once I join them.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I hear her turn around and walk up the stairs. Conversation avoided, for now.

A list of names is being shoved under my nose by a grinning Ginny. I just frown at her.

"If you're going to use assisting me an excuse to avoid people, you might as well actually help me."

"Fine," I give in quite easily, happy to avoid said people a bit longer.

"Why don't you want to go talk about whatever the inner circle wants to talk about now?" Ginny tries to act casual about it but I know she's dying for any kind of intell on what my brother and his friends are up to.

"You don't want to know," I quickly deflect. "What are you doing anyway?"

"Mum suddenly has this fright that she's forgotten someone on the guest list," Ginny sighs tiredly. "So now I'm forced to go through all the attendance confirmations the guests send us to make sure they're all on the list as well."

Sounds like a tedious, time-consuming task. Sounds perfect.

"I'll read out the names on the confirmations, you check if they're on the list."

"Fine by me," I agree. "How many people are on it anyway?"

"Seventy-nine."

"Lovely," I sigh, but anything is better than what's going on upstairs. "Let's begin then."

"Jordan Lee."

Oh, I had no idea he was invited. Of course he's the twins' best friend so evidently he'd know the family well. Perhaps there will be more people I know at the wedding than I originally suspected.

"Krum Victor."

Yes, definitely many more than I thought.

"Doge Elphias."

As I search for the name on the guest list, my eyes pass over the D section of it, which contains an awful lot of Delacours of course, but another, unexpected name as well, right before Doge.

 _Diggory Cedric_

I stare with bulging eyes at the name until I start feeling dizzy from the intense staring. Nonetheless I can't look away from the name on the guest list.

"Doge Elphias," Ginny repeats when I remain quiet. "Merlin, is he not on it? Mum is going to kill someone when she finds out we prepared for one person short."

"I… I didn't know he was coming," I breath out shakily.

"Doge?" Ginny asks. "Well, he used to-"

"Not him," I snap at her.

"Then who are you talking about?" She frowns.

I don't say anything else, just tap his name with my finger and immediately the confusion on her face disappears.

"Of course he is," She says cautiously, like I'm about to hit her over her head with a chair if she says anything I don't like.

What's so obvious about that? I'm well aware Cedric and the Weasleys know each other but I've never really thought of them as people who interact with each other on a level that's more personal that nods of recognition.

"Why?" I ask.

"Fleur insisted on inviting the fellow Triward Tournament Champions. Apparently she's kept in touch with both Cedric and Viktor Krum over the years. And of course the entire Order is invited. Since they've been using our home as their headquarter this summer, we've actually seen a lot of him here lately."

Cedric kept in touch with Fleur? Cedric has been at The Burrow? Often? Cedric is coming to this wedding?

I am not prepared for any of that today, not after receiving the not-so-subtle reminder that I have a prophetic duty to fulfil. On top of having my impending death shoved into my face again, I can't deal with Cedric being here today as well. I am not ready for that.

I've thought about him of course, and the first time we'd see each other again after I left his heart in pieces last Christmas. While I knew a run-in would be inevitable, I had hoped for more time to prepare myself for this. Since finding out that I will be dead soon, I've thought about the amends I want to make before the end and the person on the top of the list is the one above Doge Elphias' name on the guest list.

I just need more time to know what I want to say to him. There are so many things I want to tell him but about half of those wouldn't fix anything, just make things worse. Above all, I suppose I want the chance to apologise to him. He doesn't even need to accept it, I just want him to know how very truly sorry I am.

Whenever I imagined that situation in my head – and imaginary Cedric is probably a lot more understanding that the real version will be – it was definitely in a more private setting than a wedding with nearly eighty guests. I also had a better idea on everything I wanted to say in my imagination. I don't think it will go as smoothly in real life. I don't know if I'm ready to be face-to-face again with a person who had the sole rights to being inside my personal bubble. What if he'll look at me with hate in his eyes? I know the letter said he held no negative feelings anymore and he was trying to let go of the few remaining ones but perhaps he's changed his mind in the past couple of months. I still don't know what would be worse. Cedric looking at me like I'm the worst person in the world, or him looking at me like I'm the most insignificant person in the world to him. What if he looks so much happier without me? What if he's fully moved on now? What if-

My own mind can't even finish that thought, my hands are already ripping the papers out of Ginny's.

"Hey!"

There might have been some order to the attendance confirmations but I just throw all the ones I don't need aside. None of them matter. The only thing I care about, the only thing I need to know is what it says on Cedric's. Something painful constricts in my chest when I think about what it could say. It's not the hideous thing I woke up with this morning, but it's not any prettier.

Just when I think those two horrible feelings will merge together into something that might take full control of me, I find Cedric's name.

 _Number of persons attending: 1_

Oh, thank Merlin. I certainly couldn't have handled seeing him today – I still can't, to be honest – if he had shown up with a date. The very idea that he would have some irritatingly gorgeous fellow Healer-in-Training on his arm makes the pain intensify, even though that would have been well within his rights. What the hell is wrong with me?!

"Why are you making such a mess of my papers?" Ginny angrily takes the remaining cards out of my hands.

"I just wanted to see…" I waver.

"See what?"

"If…" I don't know why I'd tell her but that apparently doesn't stop me from saying it anyway. "If he's coming alone."

"Oh," She blinks. "Well, of course he is."

"What does that mean?" I frown.

"Unlike you, he knows what it means that the entire Order will be here today." He knows I'm here? He wouldn't bring a date to the wedding because he knows I'll be attending as well. Is that considerate or- "Even if he is seeing someone, he'd have enough class not to bring her to the wedding."

The hope that had cautiously started to bloom is quickly crushed with those words. Of course he'd be that considerate. If he was just an ass, like I hear all guys are supposed to be, at least I'd know him not bringing a date means there's no one to bring. Because of course there's someone to bring. Cedric is a catch, who's been single for seven months now. All those desperate witches at St-Mungo's must be throwing themselves at him, and he's only human. Not to mention free to act on any advances.

"Have you spoken to him, since you guys… you know?" Ginny asks as though the word break-up would cause me to snap. It could.

"He wrote me a letter," I confide in her.

"A nice one?" She frowns, probably trying to determine if Cedric's the kind of guy to send me a horrible monologue about what a despicable being I am. He's not. Nonetheless, the question isn't easily answered.

"I guess… it was supposed to be kind?" I shrug, but I can tell she has no clue what that means. "He… He wrote to tell me there were no hard feelings and that he got over me. He's… he's o-over me."

I've known that for a couple of months now but it still hurts to say it out loud.

"Are you?"

That's the real question, isn't it? But the answer is very, very simple.

I slowly shake my head at her. No, definitely nowhere near over him. But it doesn't really matter because nothing will ever really happen between us. I'm a dead woman walking anyway. If I believe Cedric deserves someone who treats him better than I ever he did, he definitely deserves to be with someone who can give him more than the couple of remaining weeks of her life.

"You could have just told me he was coming today," I turn my frustration on Ginny. "A heads-up would have been nice."

"When would I have told you?" She scowls. "You've been silent all summer. No letter, no floo-call, nothing. Besides, I had my own relationship ruins to deal with."

Oh, right. Somehow I had managed to forget that Harry broke up with her before the summer started. I might seem a bit harsh, but in light of recent events and revealed knowledge that just seems fairly insignificant.

"It's not the same though," I frown. "You and Harry aren't together because he's trying to protect you. I drove Cedric so far away that I can't possibly reach him now."

"Heartbreak is still heartbreak, Danny," Ginny glares at me before getting up and disappearing upstairs.

I admit, I could have been a bit more sympathetic. Just because there's no reviving me and Cedric while there is for her and Harry, doesn't mean she's not hurting either. Perhaps one of my final things in life to master could be the art of apologising.

I leave the guest list and attendance confirmations on the table – I'm pretty sure Molly already had someone else triple check them before anyway – and follow her to the first level. Getting there, I remember I don't actually know where Ginny's room is so just hoping she'll reveal it to me, I softly call out her name in the hallway. I don't want to stumble upon another member of the family with a new task at hand.

A door opens near the end of the hallway but it reveals a bushy brown-haired girl instead of the red-head I was looking for. I didn't realise she was coming from Weasley's room anyway until she locks her eyes on me and narrows them in a glare. I'm not even as late to the party as I could have been if me and Ginny hadn't gotten side-tracked so why does she look like I'm the source of all her troubles?

She doesn't say anything to me, just marches through the hallway to grab my arm and drag me to Weasley's bedroom. I don't even get the chance to protest before being pushed through the door and having it close behind us.

Weasley and I will never be the best of buddies and I'd be in shock if I walked into a room and he's be over the moon over me being there. But that doesn't mean that the vicious glare sent to me upon entering his bedroom isn't a bit of a shock.

"What?" I frown, feeling like I'm about to be blamed for something.

"You put it in his head," Weasley points a threatening finger at me.

"By 'his', I assume you're talking about Harry?" I glance at my brother who sits uncomfortably on the bed.

"You told him he shouldn't take us with him." And there come the accusations.

"You told them?" I glance at Harry.

So while waiting for me to join them on the speculations of Dumbledore's will, he told his friends he'd be going on the Horcrux Hunt without them. And somehow they just assumed that was my doing? Far from it, for a change.

"Did you also tell them I disagree?"

"You do?" Granger looks at me in surprise.

"I have no intention of being his sole bodyguard."

It would be even better if I didn't have to be one at all. Two seems like a better number than three anyway.

"Listen-" Harry starts but Weasley and Granger feels as passionately about accompanying him as I feel about not joining.

"No, Harry, _you_ listen," Granger says. "We're coming with you. That was decided months ago – years, really."

"But-"

"Shut up," Weasley says and I think he might be actually advising Harry not to go in against granger on this.

"- are you sure you've thought this through?" Harry insists.

"Let's see," Granger adapts a fierce looks as she addresses him. "I've been packing for days, so we're ready to leave at a moment's notice, which for your information has included doing some pretty difficult magic, not to mention smuggling Mad-Eye's whole stock of Polyjuice Potion right under Ron's mum's nose. I've also modified my parents' memories so that they're convinced they're really called Wendell and Monica Wilkins, and that their life's ambition is to move to Australia, which they have now done. That's to make it more difficult for Voldemort to track them down and interrogate them about me – or you, because unfortunately, I've told them quite a bit about you. Assuming I survive our hunt for the Horcruxes, I'll find Mum and Dad and lift the enchantment. If I don't – well, I think I've cast a good enough charm to keep them safe and happy. Wendell and Monica Wilkins don't know they've got a daughter, you see."

Granger's eyes are filling up with tears as Weasley puts a comforting arm around her. Me and Harry are just left staring at her. That is some dedication. She went that far for Harry, making preparation for a life for her parents where she doesn't even exist, assuming she won't survive the Horcrux Hunt. Something I haven't been able to do.

"I – Hermione, I'm sorry – I didn't –"

"Didn't realise that Ron and I know perfectly well what might happen if we come with you?" Well, we do. Ron, show Harry what you've done. "

"Nah, he's just eaten."

"Go on, they need to know."

"Oh, all right. Harry, Danny, come on."

I dazedly follow them out of the room on to the landing. There Weasley points his wand at the ceiling and opens a hatch with a sliding ladder. We both follow Weasley up there, wondering where the hell he's taking as that smells like the sewers and sounds like a dying animal.

"That's you ghoul, isn't it?" Harry asks.

"Yeah, it is. Come and have a look at him."

I don't get what a ghoul has to do with anything and as I enter the tiny attic, I'm none the wiser.

"Do ghouls normally wear pyjamas?" I frown at the curled up creature in the far corner.

"No, nor have they usually got red hair or that number of pustules. He's me, see?"

Besides the red hair and the pyjamas I assume are Weasley's, the ghoul looks nothing like him. My comparison between him and a buffoon was more spot on than this.

"No," Harry shakes his head. "I don't."

"I'll explain it back in my room, the smell's getting to me."

You and me both. I'm more than a bit relieved to leave the attic with its smelly occupant, though that does mean I'm returning to the room of glares and accusations though most of them seem to be directed at Harry for now.

"Once we've left, the ghoul's going to come and live down here in my room," Weasley explains once we're back in his locked bedroom. "I think he's really looking forward to it – well, it's hard to tell, because all he can do is moan and drool – but he nods a lot when you mention it. Anyway, he's going to be me with spattergroit. Good, eh?"

Me and Harry are just left staring at him.

"It is!" Weasley insists. "Look, when we four don't turn up at Hogwarts again, everyone's going to think Hermione and I must be with you, right? Which means the Death Eaters will go straight for our families to see if they've got information on where you are."

"But hopefully it'll look like I've gone away with Mum and Dad," Granger says. "A lot of Muggle-borns are talking about going into hiding at the moment."

"We can't hide my whole family, it'll look too fishy and they can't all leave their jobs," Ron tells us. "So we're going to put out the story that I'm seriously ill with spattergroit, which is why I can't go back to school. If anyone comes calling to investigate, Mum or Dad can show them the ghoul in my bed, covered in pustules. Spattergroit's really contagious, so they're not going to want to go near him. It won't matter that he can't say anything, either, because apparently you can't once the fungus has spread to your uvula."

"And your mum and dad are in on this plan?" Harry asks.

"Dad is. He helped Fred and George transform the ghoul. Mum… well, you've seen what she's like. She won't accept we're going 'til we've gone."

His parents know, probably not all, but some of what their son and his friends are planning. I can definitely see Molly Weasley trying to stop them at all cost. I'm not stupid. Even though we don't talk about it, I know my parents are aware that Harry will take it upon himself to end this war, that Dumbledore must have confided one last task in their son. Especially if the Weasleys know as well. Then they must have discussed it with our parents as well. I don't know whether to be grateful or angry that they haven't tried to change our minds. Perhaps they've finally come to the realisation that they can't possibly protect us anymore. It must be a hard thing to come to terms with as a parent.

As the room is bathed in silence, I know we're all thinking the same. Well, me and Harry definitely are. For all the years I've been jealous of their bond, I find myself incredibly grateful that my brother has found himself such wonderful friends, who would erase their existence and ask their families to live lies, all so they could go on a life-threatening mission with them. There will never be words to express how grateful I am to them. Because perhaps it is not Harry that can relieve me of the duty Dumbledore enforced on me, perhaps it is these two who can by taking the burden upon themselves. They won't be required to die like I am but it certainly looks like they would be ready to do so, if necessary.

"Party of three it is then," I nod.

"Four," Harry quickly turns his head in my direction.

"Yes," I quickly say. "Four is what I meant."

"Good," Granger nods, then turns to Weasley. "Now, show us that Deluminator."

Ah, yes, another unpleasant conversation they insist on. Might as well get it over with.

Weasley pulls out the Deluminator and takes away all the light in the room with a click.

"The thing is," I say to the darkness. "we could have achieved that with Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder."

"Still, it's cool," Weasley quickly defends after he's returned the light. "And from what they said, Dumbledore invented it himself!"

"Surely he wouldn't have singled you out in his will just to help us turn out the lights," Granger says.

"D'you think he knew the Ministry would confiscate his will and examine everything he'd left us?" Harry asks.

"Definitely," Granger nods. "He couldn't tell us in the will why he was leaving us these things, but that still doesn't explain…"

"…why he couldn't have given us a hint when he was alive?" Ron asks.

Oh, but he did. To me, he was quite obvious about it. He just failed to mention that it wouldn't be helpful at all. Instead, it's a death sentence.

"Well, exactly," Granger flips through the pages of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_. "If these things are important enough to pass on right under the nose of the Ministry, you'd think he'd have let us know why… unless he thought it was obvious?"

"Thought wrong, then, didn't he? I always said he was mental. Brilliant, and everything, but cracked. Leaving Harry an old Snitch – what the hell was that about?"

"I've no idea," Granger admits. "When Scrimgeour made you take it, Harry, I was so sure that something was going to happen."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't going to try too hard in front of Scrimgeour, was I?"

"What do you mean?" I frown as Harry lifts up the Snitch again.

"The Snitch I caught in my first ever Quidditch match? Don't you remember?"

Of course I don't since I wasn't there. I was still safely in Beauxbatons back then, oblivious to all the danger that was going to come into my life. Granger doesn't seem to be following either but Weasley excitedly starts pointing between Harry and the Snitch.

"That was the one you nearly swallowed!"

"Exactly," Harry says and I watch with bathed breath how Harry presses his lips to the Snitch.

But once again, nothing happens. I knew it was all just rubbish.

"Writing!" Grangers suddenly gasps. "There's writing on it, quick, look!"

The words on the golden surface vanish as quickly as they appeared but Harry has just enough time to read them aloud.

"I open at the close…."

' _in exchange for life before the close,'_

My heartbeat literally stops for a moment. The close! That's what's mentioned in the prophecy as well. I'm supposed to die before the close, meaning this Snitch will only open after my death. Even though that still doesn't explain what the fucking close is, I'm not that curious and eager for that Snitch to reveal its secrets anymore.

I'm left in a daze, repeating that one phrase in my head over and over again, as the others discuss what those words could mean, coming up short as well. They only have my attention again when they mention what was left to me in the will.

"And the Pensieve," Harry says. "It was right _there_. If he wanted Danny to have it, why didn't he just give it to her then? Same for the sword."

I know they're about to ask me why I think he left it to me and I could just repeat the lie I told Scrimgeour, or I could divert the attention.

"What about the book?" I point toward the dome in Granger's lap.

"I've never even hear of them," She admits.

"You've never heard of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_?" Weasley gasps. "You're kidding, right?"

"No, I'm not," Granger looks surprised. "Do you know them, then?"

"Well, of course I do."

Granger looks at me and Harry but even though we never owned a copy, we do know the tales. Perhaps not all of them but we both know who Beedle the Bard is.

"Oh, come on! All the old kid's stories are supposed to be Beedle's, aren't they? _The Fountain of Fair Fortune… The Wizard and the Hopping Pot…_ " To somehow who most likely only grew up with Little Red Riding Hood and Rumplestilskin, this must seem like gibberish. " _Babbitty Rabbitty and her Cackling Stump…"_

"Excuse me?" Granger laughs. "what was that last one?"

"Come off it!" He looks at her in disbelief like he expects her to be pulling his leg. "You must've heard of Babbitty Rabbitty-"

"Ronald, you know full well I was brought up by Muggles! I haven't heard stories like that when I was little, I heard _Snow White and the Seven Dwarves_ and _Cinderella-"_

"What's that, an illness?"

I can't help a little laugh escaping me but Granger's attention is back on the book left to her in Dumbledore's will.

"So these are children's stories?"

"Yeah," I nod when Weasley still seems too in shock to answer her. "That's what you hear, that all these old stories came from Beedle. He's the wizard equivalent of the Brothers Grimm, I suppose. I dunno what they're like in the original versions."

"But I wonder why Dumbledore thought I should read them?" Granger wonders out loud but no one has the answer to that. We don't have the answers to anything and the questions just keep on growing. What is the close? What's in the Snitch? Why did he leave them a Deluminator and a children's book?

This conversation didn't help us one bit. We're none the wiser. The worst conversation is still to be had of course. I have to find a way to tell Harry I'm not going with him. Ha


	5. Another Wedding

_I am so sorry it took this long. This chapter as a bit of a hard one – I have to admit I've also been distracted with other things – because I've known that I was going to write this scene a long time ago. And over time I've come up with different scenarios. Writing it all out now forced me to make a decision on what went in and what didn't. As a consolation for the long wait, this is an exceptionally long chapter that might contain something you've been waiting for._

 _ **xXMizz Alex VolturiXx**_ _, you are awesome. That pretty much sums it up._

 **Chapter 5**

All the speculating done in Weasley's bedroom eventually leads up to nothing. In the end we still don't know shit. By the time the first wedding guests start arriving, we decide to leave and join the party which brings me to another problem. Cedric is down there, or will be down there very soon and I have no idea the impact that it will have on me when I see him again.

"Are you coming?" Harry who doesn't really look like Harry asks.

Because people can't know Harry Potter is in their midst, my brother agreed to let the Weasley's magically alter his appearance a bit. His new red hair and freckles make him look like he fits right in with the rest of their family. The hope is that he will do exactly that, get lost in the crowd of Weasleys. Mum and dad agreed to be undercover guests as well and they asked me to do the same this morning but I told them hell no. There's no way I'm changing myself to look like someone else, especially if Cedric is here today as well. If I have to face him again, I'd rather face him as the real Danny Potter. A red-haired appearance would make it easier to avoid him, I suppose, but perhaps it's better to face it all head on.

"I'll be right there," I tell him.

As he, Granger and Weasley head downstairs to join the greeting of the guests, I find my way to the Burrow's bathroom. If I'm doing this, I better look the best I can. I fuss over my appearance, that nearly looks the same as this morning, even after all the preparations and pointless brainstorm sessions, for much longer than intended. When I finally do get downstairs, most people have already taken a seat in the big tent for the wedding ceremony. Leaving me to walk down the aisle to the seat my parents saved me.

On my way down there, my heart beats angrily in my chest every time I see the back of a brown-haired, curly head. You'd think I'd know what the back of Cedric's head looks like but with every head that might be his I'm left in doubt whether it really is him. The guy near the front looks like it could be him, except that he's sitting in the family section of the Delacours. The brown mop of hair in the seventh row is a possibility as well except that the lights in the massive tent give his hair a ginger shine, not copper. My heart skips another beat when I pass someone who looks an awful lot like Cedric from behind – his hair a bit shaggier than I'm used to – but then I realise he's sitting on the Weasley side of the guests and if I'm to believe Ginny, he's closer to Fleur. That doesn't stop me from heaving a sigh of relief when I glance back and see the bloke looks nothing like him.

I get to my seat without spotting any other potential Cedrics, making me wonder if perhaps he chickened out as well today and decided not to make an appearance.

"Are you looking for someone?" My dad frown as I sit down between Harry and my mum.

"No," I quickly shake my head in denial.

This is already hard enough to do without my family trying to be a part of it as well. I'm obviously an accomplished liar – something I'm well aware of – because dad just nods and returns his attention to the front.

"He's not here yet," My mother whispers into my ear when my dad is occupied with waving to people he's vaguely familiar with who of course don't recognise the strange red-haired fellow who he looks like now and Harry's searching around the room for someone as well.

I turn to my mum in shock, ready to tell her that I have no idea who she's talking about but I'm stopped short when I see the knowing smile on her face. It's so hard to keep things hidden from a mother. I wish she couldn't see clearly through me sometimes but I suppose it is comforting to know that the confrontation with the only person I've never actually wanted to hurt gets postponed for just a moment longer.

Waiting for the ceremony to kick off, I keep my gaze straight ahead even though I can hear more people still entering the tent and taking a seat. One of those people could be Cedric. One of them most likely is because even though I've contemplated ditching this whole thing just so I wouldn't have to see him again, he's way too proper to bail on an invitation he already accepted. He'll be here.

Even when everyone else's head turns around to watch Mr and Mrs Weasley strolling up the aisle, I keep my eyes fixated on the white side of the tent in front of me. I see them anyway when they pass our row. Next are the groom, who looks very handsome despite the obvious scars, and his best man which is of course Charlie. When a collective sigh goes through the audience in the tent, I am a bit tempted to see the bride walk down the aisle but in the end my love of procrastination wins out and I wait to admire the bride's appearance until she makes it to the front as well. Fleur has always been a beautiful woman of course but today she is radiant. She's wearing a surprisingly simple white wedding gown but the light in her eyes makes her look almost ethereal.

"Ladies and gentlemen," The short wizard I recall from Dumbledore's funeral starts. "We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two faithful souls."

While this wedding ceremony couldn't be more different from Remus and Tonks', as I watch the happy couple beam at each other with a happiness so obvious I find myself feeling that pang of jealousy once more for something I normally wouldn't even desire at my age. I suppose it doesn't really help knowing the only person I could ever have imagined sharing that moment with myself is sitting somewhere in this tent as well. Could he be thinking the same thing as I am? Except that Cedric will still have all the time in the world to get to that moment, long after I'm gone.

"You're such a sap," Harry sighs as he hands me a handkerchief without looking at me.

He still believes I just love wedding this much because I cried at Tonks and Remus' as well. His gaze is too transfixed on Ginny standing next to Gabrielle Delacour in her low-cut golden dress to notice that instead of tears of joy, these are tears of pain. He's never been good at picking up on that anyway.

"Yeah," I take the tissue and wipe away my quick-gathering tears.

Even though I've tried and somewhat managed to keep a tight lid on my emotions these past months, weddings seem to bring it out in me.

"…then I declare you bonded for life." A conjured shower of silver stars rains down on Bill and Fleur's joined hands, closing the ceremony and giving cue to Fred and George to start wolf-whistling and howling. "Ladies and gentlemen, if you would please stand up."

Rather odd last line for a ceremony but nonetheless we do as we are told. The short wizard waves his wand and the seats we had been sitting on gracefully rise into the air where they transform into small white-clothed tables to slowly descend to the ground again, the canvas walls disappear to give us a clear view on our sunlit surroundings and a pool of molten gold spreads around the tent forming a dancing floor and a band in golden jackets troops to the podium.

"Smooth," I hear someone say in my vicinity and I can't help but agree even though I believe I recognised the voice as Weasley's.

Mum and dad get roped into a conversation with some distant relative of the Weasleys before I even turn to them again. Harry seems to have ditched me as well to go hang out with the two people he always hangs out with anyway, leaving me standing all by myself. I decide to make my way to the closest tray of champagne since stress drinking seems like a really good solution to my problem, when I spot the nearest waiter. And three feet to his left a mop of brown, wavy hair with a copper shine to it that turns out I'd recognise anywhere after all. There's fairly little difference between him and the other potential Cedrics I've seen today except that this one is without a doubt the real deal. Of course, it also helps that he seems to be in conversation with Victor Krum, a fellow Triward Tournament Champion, but I'm confident I would have recognised him anyway. The strange flips my organs make at the mere sight of him is really all the confirmation I need.

If there's some rule that you have to look drop-dead-gorgeous the next time you run into your ex, Cedric has followed it to the letter. He looks even more handsome in his dress robes now than I remember him during the Yule Ball in my fourth year, as far as I can see from this angle. Of course he'd still been a teenage boy then. It might not be too many years ago but he's definitely changed into a man by now. While I've evolved into this pitiful mess who chose to wear a purple dress of all colours! Why didn't I wear that midnight blue one with the high split? I would have looked amazing in that dress. Of course I hadn't known I was supposed to wow my ex-boyfriend when I made the big wardrobe decisions.

From what I can tell from this distance, he looks to be enjoying himself. And fuck, he looks happy. A part of me is glad about that but another part, one I don't really want to admit to having, was hoping to see him so much worse off without me. Why would I wish unhappiness on someone I love? What is wrong with me?

When something behind me seems to catch Krum's attention and it looks like Cedric's just seconds away from turning around and looking in the same direction – and I'm really tempted to just stand here and let that happen in the hope that I get a good look at his face because if my internal system is already doing summersaults at the mere sight of the back of his head, I kind of wonder what would happen if I get to enjoy the full view – I quickly turn around in the same direction as well. Though I know I'm supposed to watch Bill and Fleur get to the dancing floor to have their first dance as a married couple now, I'm currently more occupied with wondering if Cedric has spotted me as well, if he too can recognise me from just the back of my head. I feel as though I'm being watched but perhaps that's just my paranoia, or my wishful thinking.

My brain vaguely registers that more people are joining the newlyweds amongst which are my parents and Mr and Mrs Weasley. It's kind of nice to see the smiles on their faces right now, even though there usually isn't much to smile about.

"They look ridiculous," An amused snort comes from my right and for a second I fear Cedric actually came to talk to me, quickly followed by the realisation that this voice doesn't sound like him at all. I know a lot of things have changed since the last time we met but I'm pretty confident his timbre didn't.

"They look happy," I counter to the Weasley twin I recognise as Fred Weasley.

"Harry told me you were a sucker for weddings but I didn't believe him," He frowns at me, fake-appalled. "I told him there's no way Danny Potter would bend for so much corniness and cheese."

"Shut up," I shove him, grateful for the distraction of someone fifty feet away possibly staring at me the way I secretly want the opportunity to just stare at him. I just don't want to get caught doing it.

"Oh, Merlin, if that's your best response, I fear all the wedding crap broke you."

Since the only comeback I can think of is 'shut up' again, he might have a point.

"I'm a girl, I like romance. Sue me," I mutter, even though I haven't really been able to appreciate the romance of the weddings this season. I suppose normally I would be totally emotional as well, except that it really would have been because of all the wedding cheesiness then.

"You're a girl?" He fake-gasps. "If only I had known from the start!"

"If that's the best joke you could come up with, I fear the wedding crap has gotten to you too," I smirk.

"Give me a second, I'll come up with something better."

I keep quiet for almost a full minute but nothing better comes out. I turn my full body to mock him for his lacking humorous skill when I accidentally let my gaze fall on someone who's standing fifty feet behind Fred.

If I had hoped Cedric hadn't noticed my presence at the wedding feast yet, that has just proven to be futile because as I am staring at him, he's definitely staring right back at me. And unlike all those times I mocked him for wearing his heart on his sleeve and his emotions on his face, the current expression he's settled on is as blank as my future.

He doesn't look very surprised to see me. I don't know whether that is because he actually already spotted me a while ago or if it's just not such a big deal to him to run into his ex-girlfriend at a wedding he already knew beforehand she'd be attending as well. He doesn't seem very happy to see me either because why the hell would he? I'm sure he's been looking forward to this moment as much as I have.

And yet, while I didn't feel ready to see him again after everything that happened and fell apart between us, I'm kind of glad to see him now. Because while he's gotten a haircut since we last saw each other that accentuates his jaw more, and the blank look on his face isn't really how he used to look at me before, it's still very much Cedric. And I missed him. I missed the hair that still tempts me to slip my fingers in it, those lips that once upon a time were mine to claim, the firm posture he got from playing Quidditch all those years that somehow seems to have gotten even fitter since Christmas, and the eyes that have always been able to look right through me. I missed him so much, that at this point I don't even care that he doesn't look like he missed me much as well, or that I must be gaping at him like some weirdo. I'm perfectly fine with just standing here, staring at him for the rest of the evening. And longer, if faith would have been so kind to allow it.

"-dance?"

"Huh?" I reluctantly pull my gaze away from the stoic Cedric to look back into Fred's questioning face. It looks like he might have asked me a question.

"Sorry. What did you say?" I mutter, fighting the urge to glance back at Cedric, and very much losing that battle.

"I asked if you wanted to dance." He repeats. "Mum insists that we participate in all wedding festivities, not just the lighting of the fireworks. And if I don't ask someone myself, she'll probably force me to waltz with aunt Muriel."

If he notices that my eyes constantly shift to a presence behind him, he's kind enough not to comment on it. So he probably didn't realise my attention is really somewhere else.

"Oh, …euhm… sure," I shrug awkwardly.

"I shall take your enthusiasm as a compliment," He bows deeply in front of me the way some ancient gentleman would have before taking my hand and guiding me to the dance floor.

Fred is a surprisingly smooth dancer as he places one hand in mine, another one at a semi-appropriate place on my waist and whisks me across the floor. Though he deserves to have my full attention, my gaze can't help but search for that familiar face in the blurred crowd as we pass them by. Can't we slow down a bit?

"You look a bit down," He eventually comments as the silence slowly turns uncomfortable between us.

"Just because we're supposed to be happy today, doesn't mean there aren't still countless things to be down about in the world."

My reply comes a bit too fast and I quickly realise I shouldn't have said that as Fred lets the conversation die again. I suppose people don't need me to point out to them the world still sucks these days. Just because they don't act it, doesn't mean they're not painfully aware of it themselves.

"So how's the shop?" I try to revive the conversation, after I brutally killed it.

"Good," He nods, as he swirls me to the left. "All things considered."

"Shops still closing?" I frown.

"More and more every day. The owners just don't turn up one morning."

Because for some reason they've angered Death Eaters. Lots of things seem to anger them. As good as it is that they haven't come knocking down Fred and George's door, with their Voldemort ridiculing campaigns, I fear it's only a matter of time before the same thing happens to them.

"You guys are being careful, right?" I ask him.

Just because the main focus has always been to protect Harry from Voldemort and his crazy followers, doesn't mean I don't fear for other people's lives as well, Fred and George Weasley definitely included. Though we haven't had much contact since they unofficially graduated Hogwarts one year ago, flying off in an impressive fireworks display, I do consider them both to be my friends. They were the first Weasleys to accept me and make me feel like I do somehow fit in with them. I can't say the same about the rest of them. While Ginny, Charlie and perhaps Bill have never really seemed to have an issue with me and I believe even Arthur Weasley might have changed his mind a bit as well by now, they're definitely not all on board the Danny Potter train yet. If they don't hurry, they'll never get the change to either.

"Yes, careful," Fred nods. "That sounds just like us."

"I mean it, Fred," I glare at him. "Brave as it may seem to make fun of a wizard dead-set on killing us all, it can quickly escalate to just downright idiocy."

Gutsy they may be, but they should be alive gutsy twins. Which happens to be just how I like my twins.

"Jeez, Danny, you really know how to suck the life out of a party, don't you?" He sighs.

"I do not-"

"Mind if I cut in?"

Fred abruptly stops moving me around the dance floor as a hand grasps his shoulder and a voice asks his permission to take over. As certainly as I know the back of his head, it's good to know I can also still recognise his voice. My body certainly did. If my dance partner hadn't abruptly stopped the dance, I would have, as my limbs seem to lock down at the sound of Cedric's voice.

"She's all yours," Fred seems to be eager to get away from someone who's only purpose this evening has been to remind him of the dread hanging over our heads. I can't really blame him. As he quickly disappears into the crowd, I do blame him for giving me and Cedric the opportunity to have that conversation I don't expect either of us to be eager to have.

"Hi there," Cedric acknowledges my presence as he takes in Fred's dancing position, hand a bit higher on the waist than my previous partner. "You look very lovely."

He seems to have exchanged his earlier expression that I couldn't possibly read for the one I'm most familiar with. That wide smile on his face and sparkling eyes staring at me as though I've just given him the answers to the universe makes him look much more like that boy I knew instead of the strange man I locked eyes with fifteen minutes ago.

Somehow he does seem to be somewhat happy to see me. Why is that? Are there still some things he wants to get off his chest and is eager to make them my burden to bear instead of his? Or is he happy because he's clearly won the competition of looking better than your ex next time you meet? While I thought it was great idea to wear my purple dress this morning – oh, how I regret that choice – he looks more dashing than any other bloke in the room. Is he happy for the chance to rub it in my face? It would certainly be justified if he did. Or could I perhaps allow myself to hope that he looks happy because he is just genuinely pleased to see me again? In a purely platonic way of course. I'm not delusional enough to dare think it could be anything other than that. And that's already very optimistic of me.

There are so many things I want to tell Cedric, even more so now that he looks very inviting and non-hostile as we gently sway to the music, not at all as threatening as he appeared in some of my dreams. But since I've already decided that I won't be telling him any of those things in real life, I come up blank with something to say to him. I suppose I could tell him he looks fucking gorgeously lovely himself but perhaps he won't appreciate me commenting on his appearance. After all, he could look like shit and I'd still have no right to notice how he looks. Perhaps I could tell him I'm sorry. For everything, if I'm trying to keep it short. But no, I had also decided not to tell him that. Asking him about the Healer program seems too intimate while discussing the weather would be as offensive as a slap to the face. What to talk about…

"Hey," I eventually manage to squeeze out.

"Hi," He smiles again. "Took you long enough to reply. This is already the second song since we started the dance."

"Sorry," I wince, not only at my obvious spacing out but also because that word should be used in a much different context. How come it just slipped so easily off my tongue?

Though I just apologised for not being able to keep a conversation going with him, not another word comes out of my mouth. They all seem stupid and meaningless compared to all the selfish things I could be saying. I also have no idea what it is he wants to hear. Might he actually is hoping for a real, sincere apology for everything that went down at and before Christmas or was he just hoping for some small talk to get the tension out of the way? What does he want from me? He needs to only say it and I'll gladly give it to him. I just can't figure it out by myself.

"I believe I can count all the times I've seen you speechless on one hand. Might only need two fingers for that."

"Yeah…" I vaguely agree.

"Three fingers now, I suppose."

"Uhuh."

"Danny?"

"Yes?"

"Perhaps we can make this a two-sided conversation?" He frowns down at me.

Fuck, does he have to look so enthralling? It makes it even harder for me to focus on getting my mouth to form words, in an order that hopefully makes sense. I blame it on the golden lightning in the tent, it makes Cedric look freaking god-like. Though I highly suspect I'd be feeling the same way in the dark.

"I'm sorry," I say, wincing again.

"Would you rather I," He awkwardly shrugs, looking a bit lost as well. He sort of reminds me of the sixth year who told me about his crush at the end of my fourth year. That was ages ago, and nowhere near as uncomfortable as this. "…go?"

"No!" I quickly say.

Though my brain can't come up with a way to get a conversation going with him, at least it's quick to stop him from leaving. While this is all very uncomfortable, if I can postpone the moment I have to leave his company again, I will. Despite the very proper distance between us and the seriously boring replies that have left my mouth, being this close to him again is inexplicably nice. I can sink up all the details of his face that I have been afraid my mind would forget. I can feel the warmth of his body radiating off him, infecting me with the heat through our joined hands and the palm pressed against my back. Even though I'm not technically in his arms, it makes me feel as protected as it always has been able to.

"I don't want you to go," I say, a bit firmer. "I just don't understand why you came up to me."

"We know each other, we have history together. It would have been rude not to," He shrugs. "Besides, I missed the opportunity to dance with you at the Yule Ball. I guess I wanted another chance."

I do too.

"I… euhm… can't claim to have gotten better since then," I give him a small tentative smile that is answered in full force.

"Don't sweat it. Neither have I," He laughs as he tips me back in a clumsy attempt to prove his point.

Pulling me back up brings me closer to him that I have been all evening, all year actually. And I know he's aware of it as well, and the disorienting effect it has on me, as he awkwardly clears his throat and quickly puts more distance between us again.

While I felt we were finally making some progress on a decent chat, Cedric suddenly turning silent as well makes this a non-conversation. Should I determine the next subject then? Perhaps it would be sort of alright to ask about his studies now that I've established he's not here to call me names.

"How's the Healer program going?" I softly ask.

"Good," He nods, seemingly glad that we can talk about something that doesn't have to be uncomfortable between us. "They need all hands on deck so it's been more intense that it's supposed to be. I feel like I'm getting thrown in the deep end most days. It's very effective in learning as fast as possible but it's also.. well, it's not…"

"Yeah," I agree. It's not right.

"How about you?" Cedric ignores that fact that the band just started playing yet another song, only slowing down a fraction to dance in a different rhythm. "How's Hogwarts?"

"Good," I reply as well, wrecking my brain for something else I can say about that. But as I try to remember what I've done the past year at school, I come up with nothing. I must have done something, right? Did I even go to classes?

"Any chance with making a decision?"

"Huh?" I gape at him.

"Magizoologist or Potion master? Any luck on figuring that one out?"

Not at all. Future career paths have been the last thing on my mind the past school year, even more so now that I know there will be no future to choose a career for. Of course, Cedric doesn't know that. I'll never tell him that.

I shake my head, letting him know there has been zero progress there. Somehow he seems more invested on getting an answer to that question than I have been. It shouldn't surprise me. He did after all send me that dragon-decorated cauldron that was probably the most thought anyone has ever paid on me. Then again, he's Cedric. He has a way of making you feel important, even if you probably aren't anymore. He can even make you feel desired when he's telling you he's over you, the way he did with that accompanying confession.

"I got your letter."

The words slip out of my mouth without me meaning to, but the damage is done. I have threaded into the dangerous waters of topics we should have avoided as we continued to talk about career paths and dancing skills. I have made this conversation about us and by the look on Cedric's face, he's not willing to just forget what I brought up. We're doing this.

"Yes," He nods, looking mighty uncomfortable, yet simultaneously ready to get this unpleasant conversation over with. Well, since there's no going back…

"I wrote back to you," I confess.

"You did?" He frowns in confusion, probably wondering how he could have missed the delivery of such a very important letter.

"I didn't send it," I shake my head.

"Why not?"

"Don't you think that would have been a bit unfair?" I ask.

Am I the only one out of the two of us who wants to spare him any more drama? He's never been too concerned about it himself. He once accused me of having no self-preservation but he's not exactly a stellar example himself.

"Depends on what it said," He stares intensely back at me.

The look in his eyes is confusing me. He seems to be expecting something… hoping for something? Does he want me to tell him what the letter said? I think it would be a cruel thing to tell him, knowing nothing could ever come from it again, but perhaps it is even crueller to let him keep guessing what I wrote.

"You asked me not to write back," I remind him of the request he made.

"But you did," He frowns. "I just never got to read it."

"Perhaps that is for the best," I nod in conviction. "It is better that way."

Yes, I truly believe it is in his best interest that I never tell him. I'll be dead in a few months anyway. What does it matter that I tell him about my feelings, that he's aware of them? It's not as though he still feels the same. He's over me.

"No," Cedric harshly pulls me closer to him, staring down at me with a deranged look of determination, abandoning the gentle swaying the current song requires. "You don't get to decide that again. I want to know what you wrote."

"Cedric-" I softly shake my head in refusal.

"I need to know."

I can live many more years than I actually will and still never do right by this man. Even when I try to, I just never know how. Perhaps I should just listen to what he's telling me he needs. I doubt that's truly the best thing for him but maybe I shouldn't deny him anymore. And maybe, I still really do want to tell him.

"I – ouch." A random woman who is dancing on the dance floor bumps into me where Cedric has pulled me to a stop. She doesn't look to be very sorry. Instead she gives me a look that clearly states I shouldn't be here if I'm not dancing. Can't she tell me and my ex-boyfriend are having a very important conversation? Rude!

Cedric seems to have regained some of his senses because he grabs my hand and pulls me off the dance floor, just past the tent and into the open air. I could use some oxygen for what comes next.

"Tell me," He looks at me with the expectations of the world.

"There are a lot of things I still want to tell you," I whisper to him but I know he hears me loud and clear. "But to do so would be selfish and unfair. And I've been selfish and unfair already way too long with you."

"Tell me," He repeats.

I don't remember the exact wording I used in the letter but as it came straight out of my heart, it's not too hard to repeat the gist of it.

"I love you," I say, as firm and loud as I feel it. "I never really stopped, even if I thought I did. I love you, more and more every day. You are more to me now than you ever were before, and I didn't even think that was possible. I love you. And I'm sorry. For everything. For pushing you away, for being so awful to you, for being that stupid, for everything. But most of all, I am sorry, I am so sorry that it is too late."

While I miraculously managed not to fall apart on the outside when writing that letter, I can't keep a dry eye in this moment. Because brave as I may be when it comes to Death Eaters and near-death experiences, standing in front of the man I love, admitting to him that my heart is fully his, I am a coward, terrified of his rejection.

Somewhere through my confession, I closed my eyes, knowing I couldn't possible say it all if I could read a reaction off Cedric's face. So now I am standing in front of him, tears rolling down my cheeks, eyes clenched shut, waiting with bathed breath for his response.

The answer doesn't come. And still, I'm not brave enough to open my eyes and draw my own conclusions.

"What on earth," His rasping voice reaches my ears as I feel two hands gently cupping my cheeks. "made you think it could ever be too late for us?"

My eyes fly open at the most unexpected words to look at Cedric's smiling face. While he doesn't appear to have any tears that need to be wiped away softly, as he is doing for me, I see a certain wetness in his gaze as well. But other than that, he doesn't seem to be upset. Instead he is smiling at me and staring at me like I am once again the beginning and the end of everything.

"Really?" I ask him with a fragile heart.

Right now it doesn't matter that there might not be a later. Right now, Cedric is telling me that we could go back to what we had. That's what he's telling me, right?

He nods.

"You love me?" I whisper frightfully.

"Never really stopped," He presses his forehead against mine.

"You love me," I repeat, most likely just trying to convince myself this isn't another dream. I've had some very similar to this moment, except that this one is a million times better.

"Yes," His lips are getting closer than mine and I can feel his answer move the air over my mouth.

"Still?"

"Always."

Kissing Cedric again after such a long time feels a lot like coming home. In his arms, desperate lips pressed against each other, I feel more at peace than I have in months. Right here, with him, is where I belong. Screw following Harry to the ends of the earth, I'm staying right here. I am not leaving this man again.

My glorious return to Cedric's embrace is rudely interrupted by gasps coming from inside the tent. We both pull away from each other to watch a bluish silver light float in the middle of the dance floor. Over the heads, I try to make out the form the obvious patronus has taken, as Cedric pulls me back into the tent, closer to the lynx-shaped magical guardian. I've only just realised that I don't actually know anyone with that Patronus, when it opens its mouth and out comes a deep familiar voice I can't quite place.

"The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."

It hasn't quite sunken in yet that the Minister of Magic is dead and that Death-Eaters are coming here right now, as everyone in the tent starts shouting and running and apparating away. It's such chaos that I get bumped into from all sides, yelled at from all angles and at some point in the panic, I let go of Cedric's hand.

"Cedric?" I yell out but I can't even hear my own voice over the screaming. "Cedric?!"

He had been standing right beside me but now it doesn't matter which direction I turn to, he's not there. Where is he?!

"Cedric!?"

"Danny!"

The voice does not belong to the man I'm looking for. Instead I see Harry, standing thirty feet away, reaching out his hand to me, begging me to take it.

Another scream alerts me to the fact that cloaked figures have apparated into the crowd. A pink-haired woman I immediately recognise as Tonks charges at them with her drawn wand in hand. My wand! It takes the Death Eaters' appearance to make me remember I should pull out my wand.

"Danny!" Harry shout at me. "Take my hand!"

But I can't. If I run up to him and take his hand, Granger will apparate us and Weasley away. I won't leave Cedric here. I can't just run off without making sure he's okay.

I try to stand on my tiptoes, wand at the ready, to spot Cedric over the crowd and for one great second I glimpse the back of his head, which I now know I'd recognise anywhere, at the other side of the dance floor. I have to go to him and he can apparate me away. We'll go somewhere safe, where there are no Death Eaters, where we don't feel the war, where we'll be together, where I can't be harmed, where I won't die.

"Danny?!"

Instead of running straight ahead to where I saw Cedric a couple of seconds ago, I make the mistake of turning back towards Harry and look him in the eye. Granger and Weasley appear to be yelling something at him but he's not paying them any attention. He's looking at me, begging me with his eyes to take his hand, to go with him, to not make him do this without me, because he doesn't believe he can do it without me.

All my plans of telling him to make this suicide mission a three-person job crumble as I watch the pure desperation on his face at the idea that I'm not going with him.

I am no longer in control of my body when I sprint towards Harry instead of Cedric and some basic instinct takes over as I firmly grab onto his hand, allowing Granger to apparate us all away, leaving Cedric behind, knowing I'll never see him again.


	6. Grimmauld Place

_I know, I know, it's been a month since my last update for this story. Time flies by soo fast. Every time I'm thinking I should probably think about posting a new chapter, I notice we're already three weeks since my last update and unfortunately these chapters don't get written in one day._

 _Because Danny's sticking closely to Harry for the moment and I can't make her go hang out with Ginny or stalk the hallways with Wayne, I have to stick closely to the book. Meaning that big chunks of this chapter come straight out of The Deathly Hallows. You'd think that would make it easier to write as I'm basically copying parts of J.K.'s work but it is actually stunting my writing process. I'm kind of missing the flow._

 _Nonetheless, I present you with a slightly shorter but by no means any less heavy chapter. I also want to thank_ _ **RockaRosalie, xXMizz Alec VolturiXx, Ayanna Fairchild**_ _and_ _ **annoyingprincess**_ _for reviewing!_

 **Chapter 6**

My surroundings remain blurry for longer than I think is normal for apparition but it could also just be all in my head as every second passes agonisingly slowly since the moment I grabbed Harry's hand and felt the familiar nausea of being squeezed through a tube.

When my feet finally touch solid ground again, I still feel the lost, disoriented feeling I had at the wedding. It must be the many people packed together in the busy street Granger brought us to. Judging by their attire, this is a muggle neighbourhood. How did they not notice four teenagers appearing out of thin air? It's late and it's dark and none of them seem to bother with anything that doesn't affect them directly so I suppose no one noticed our unusual appearance.

"Tottenham Court Road," Granger pants. "Walk, just walk, we need to find somewhere for you to change."

I follow the other three in a stupor. Not because I believe they have any better clue on how to proceed from here but because I don't exactly have an idea either. Perhaps it is better to be lost together?

We get a bit of strange looks once we walk into the streetlights. While me and Granger can still pass for seriously overdressed party girls, the wizarding dress robes draw a lot of attention. She's right, we need to change clothes.

"Hermione, we haven't got anything to change into."

"Why didn't I make sure I had the Invisibility Cloak with me? All last year I kept it on me and –"

"It's ok, I've got the cloak. I've got clothes for both you guys. Just try and act naturally until – this will do."

I don't know why this dark abandoned alley is any better than the previous ones we passed but as my mind is still at The Burrow, I find myself following her directions as meek as a lamb.

"When you say you've got the Cloak, and clothes…" Harry glances at the tiny beaded handbag she's carrying.

"Yes, they're here," Granger opens the bag and pulls out jeans, sweaters, socks, and indeed, the Invisibility Cloak.

I don't get why both of them are gaping at her like that. We live in a world with magic. What I can't wrap my head around is how none of them seem to be paying any thoughts anymore to the people we just abandoned at The Burrow!

"How the ruddy hell-?"

"Undetectable Extension Charm. Tricky, but I think I've done OK. Anyway, I managed to fit everything we need in here," She shakes the bag a little but instead of a soft jingle like clashing keys, it sounds like an entire wall just came down. "Oh, damn, that'll be the books. And I had them all stacked by subject… oh well… Harry, you better take the Invisibility Cloak. Ron, hurry up and change…"

Weasley changes into the muggle clothes while Harry drapes the Cloak around him so there is nothing but his voice to alert us to his presence now. Granger explains to us how she had been prepared, dragging all her belongings with her for days, telling us we shouldn't worry about the people we left behind at the wedding but how can they so easily shrug it off? We left them there. People that we care about, that we love. And we just apparated away, abandoning them in their time of need. I know her argument that the person they're really after is Harry and the best we can do is get him far away, makes sense but I just left him there. What if Cedric's not okay? What if he refused to leave the site until he was certain I was safe? What if he's still there, waiting for me? And I just left him there.

"Danny?"

"Huh?" I look up from the brick wall I had been glaring at.

"We ought to keep moving," Granger leads us out of the alley with Weasley behind her and I suspect Harry to be here somewhere as well.

"Just as a matter of interest," The only visible bloke asks when we return to the busy main street. "why Tottenham Court Road?"

"I've no idea, it just popped into my head, but I'm sure we're safer out in the Muggle world, it's not where they'll expect us to be."

Because it's not where we're supposed to be. I'm supposed to have stayed, with Cedric and my parents and all those innocent people. I shouldn't have taken Harry's hand.

"True, but don't you feel a bit – exposed?"

"Where else is there? We can hardly book rooms at the Leaky Cauldron, can we? And Grimmauld Place is out if Snape can get in there… I suppose we could try my parents' house, though I think there's a chance they might check there."

The packed street with people staring at me – or at least I think they're looking at me – makes me feel exposed, like Weasley said, and judged and awful. It's as if they know I just left people behind I claimed to love, only to run away from them as soon as the opportunity presented itself. I think I'm going to be sick.

"Let's sit down somewhere," I plead as I feel myself swaying dangerously. "Look, this will do, in here!"

There's not a lot of protest as they follow me into the shabby all-night café. It looks like this place hasn't seen a cleaning crew in quite some time but at least there's no one here to take notice of our dishevelled and, in my case, shocked states.

Weasley takes a seat at one of the tables with his face to the door, a secure position I'm jealous of but when I try to sit next to him after a moment of hesitation, I stumble upon filled space. Harry seems to have taken the other seat facing the door, leaving me and Granger to sit with our backs to the entrance. I can tell she's just as uncomfortable by it as I am.

"Aren't you the one that wanted to sit down?" Weasley grumbles at me as I'm the only one left standing.

I did. I wanted to sit down and just catch a breath for a second. But now that we've entered this place with that exact possibility, I've realised that instead of a breath, I want a break.

"I'm just going to freshen up," I nod in the direction of the restroom in the back.

When I step away from the table, a hand on my wrist stops me. When I look down to see who it belongs to, I see nothing but air.

"Danny?" Harry whispers.

"I-" I take a shaky breath. "We just left them there."

I pull away from Harry's hold much harsher than I intended as I rush to the restroom.

Just a minute, I tell myself as I clench my hands on the edges of the sink and hunch over it, ready to puke. I just need one minute and then I'll return to the table, ready to take on the world with them. Except that one minute turns into two and two turn into four. And with every passing second I realise that I don't want to go back in there. Instead, I could just grab my wand and apparate back to The Burrow, or the chalet in the middle of nowhere that doesn't seem as bad now as it did 24 hours ago. I might not have passed any apparition examination but I followed the lessons, though I didn't pay as much attention to it as I now know I should have, meaning I could apparate with only a minimum risk of splintering. I could do it.

I take out my wand without a conscious thought until I realise I'm actually considering this. All it takes is one spell and a calculated risk. And betraying my brother, and his trust in me, the dependence on me I've always encouraged, only to despise him for it now. It's not fair of me to do this, to even consider this but the word is already on my lips.

"Cedric."

I think about the three D's, most importantly my destination, and turn halfway on the spot when a loud bang comes from the café I had been ready to leave behind.

"Expulso!"

All the hairs on my body stand upright at the voice. Because that voice does not belong to Harry, Granger or Weasley. There's another wizard in there, pointing his wand at my brother. All thoughts of apparition forgotten, I storm out of the restroom with my own wand at the ready.

The café is a mess, upturned tables and broken chairs litter the floor. I'm just in time to witness Granger take out a tall blond wizard, murderous expression on his face, with a stunning spell.

"D-Diffindo," She trembles all over as she attempts to liberate Weasley from thick ropes wrapped around him, accidentally also cutting his knee in the process. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Ron, my hand's shaking. Diffindo!"

"I should've recognised him," Harry says, standing over the presumable Death Eater that Granger stunned. "He was there the night Dumbledore died."

He turns over another man laying face down in the remains of the counter that looks familiar.

"That's Dolohov," Weasley narrows his eyes at the man. "I recognise him from the old wanted posters. I think the big one's Thorfinn Rowle."

"Never mind what they're called!" Granger shrieks hysterically. "How did they find us? What are we going to do?"

How _did_ they find us? We're in the middle of Muggle London and we were not followed when we apparated. Did they just coincidentally stumble upon us in this abandoned café?

"Lock the door," Harry orders. "Ron, turn out the lights."

Good first step but what's next? By the way Granger is getting hysterical and I just stand around like I don't have a clue what's going on, you'd think this is the first time Death Eaters attacked us, which, unfortunately, it's not.

"What are we going to do with them?" Weasley whispers to Harry after he's used Dumbledore's legacy to him to plunge the café into darkness. "Kill them? They'd kill us. They had a good go just now."

Kill them? It seems like a fair thing to do since they wouldn't hesitate in our position. But there's a massive difference between agreeing that killing them makes the most sense and actually kill a human being.

"We just need to wipe their memories," Harry says. "It's better like that, it'll throw them off the scent. If we killed them, it'd be obvious we were here."

That makes sense as well. Also, it postpones the probably inevitable moment where we kill someone for the first time. I could use a bit more time.

"You're the boss," Weasley sighs in relief. "But I've never done a Memory Charm."

"I know the theory," Granger shrugs helplessly.

We need something a little more dependable than her simply knowing the theory. I know it's not as simple as that.

"I can do it," I sigh.

Three faces blink at me in surprise. Did they have their memories wiped as well?

"I've done it before," I point in Weasley's direction. "Remember?"

They all hated me for weeks after that but somehow they've forgotten about the time I wiped Weasley's memory in the hopes of him forgetting I had administered him a home-made love potion.

"I also remember remembering that," Weasley gives me a pointed look.

"I've gotten better," I step closer to the Death Eater to point my wand at his glaring face.

At least, I hope I've improved. Since that disastrous event, I've never really tried again, never really had to. I kind of wish the opportunity to hone this skill had presented itself the previous years but since I've spend most of my time last year practicing a skill that invaded and warps the human mind much more than a Memory Charm, I'm sure I've gotten better at this as well.

"Obliviate."

I watch the glare turn into a hazy and glazed over look. Well, it certainly appears to have worked.

As I take care of the second Death Eater as well, the others clean up the place to make it seem as though a fight didn't just take place here. When they've both been, hopefully successfully, obliviated and the place is back to the way it was before they found us here, we prop them up in one of the booths, as though they never got up to fire spells at us.

"I don't get how they found us," I muse out loud.

"You – you don't think you've still got your Trace on you, do you?" Granger asks Harry.

"He can't have," Weasley shakes his head. "The Trace breaks at seventeen, that's wizarding Law, you can't put it on an adult."

"As far as you know. What if the Death Eaters have found a way to put it on a seventeen-year old."

"They can't have," I shake my head as well. "Dad checked him. Oh, don't look at me like that, Harry. Of course he checked. If a Death Eater did manage to place some kind of Trace on him, it can't have been any moment other than at the wedding."

Harry clearly didn't notice my dad casting spells to check up on him but I certainly did. I notice everything concerning Harry. Nonetheless, that does still leave a small window of opportunity during which a Death Eater could have placed a Trace on my brother, if they somehow figured out how to do that. It's a small chance, but still a real one.

"If I can't use magic, and you can't use magic near me, without us giving away our position…" Harry starts.

"We're not splitting up!" Granger says firmly.

While I had been about to do just that before the Death Eaters arrived, I have to agree with her on this. That's a terrible idea.

"We need a safe place," I sigh. "To hide and give us some time to think things through."

We need a plan, and we're not going to come up with one in here.

"Grimmauld Place," Harry says and he's the only one in the room not to gape at the suggestion.

"Don't be silly, Harry. Snape can get in there!"

Snape is actually the least of my concerns when it comes to Grimmauld Place.

"Dad said they've put up jinxes against him – and even if they haven't worked, so what? I swear, I'd like nothing better than to meet Snape."

Meet Snape and die. Is that the plan?

"Bu-"

"Hermione, where else is there? It's the best chance we've got. Snape's only one Death Eater. If I've still got the Trace on me, we'll have whole crowds of them on us wherever else we go."

It makes sense. But by Merlin, I do not want to set another foot in that place ever again. We might run into Snape but I am certain we'll find the ghost of Sirius there. He's entwined in the walls, in the creaking floorboards. The house is a reminder of his pain and suffering in his life time and what had to happen to have it passed down to Harry. I don't want to go back to the place that made him so miserable. I thought of all people, his godson would understand that. He most likely does, but there aren't any real alternatives.

Though Granger and Weasley don't seem to like the suggestion any more than I do, they don't come up with anything else. It's decided then. We're going back to that hellhole.

I unlock the door as Weasley clicks the Deluminator to release the café's light. Granger apparatus us away seconds after they've all cancelled the spells on the Death Eaters, making them stir before I am once again pushed through blackness, Harry's hand clenched around my wrist like a handcuff.

Seconds later I feel I can breathe properly again. We must have arrived. I cautiously open one eye to look at the similar houses in the familiar shabby square. Grimmauld Place. Sirius' childhood home, Harry's new house. When it had been left to him, he hadn't wanted to visit it again and we had all whole-heartedly agreed that this would be a place we'd slowly let fall in ruin, never to set foot in it again.

I hesitate for a brief moment as the others run up to the stairs of number twelve where Harry taps on the door with his wand. We can hear metal locks turning as the door opens to grant access to its new owner. We hurry over the threshold and the door swings shut behind me.

It looks exactly the same as the last time I was here. There might be bit more cobwebs than I remember but I can see the light that sprang to life at our entrance illuminate the dark, depressing old wallpaper, the house elves' heads by the staircase, the long curtains that I know hide Walburga Black from view. And the troll's leg umbrella stand, lying on the ground as though it had just been knocked over. But as far as I know, Tonks hasn't been here since Sirius' death either.

"I think somebody's been in here," Granger whispers, pointing towards it.

"That could've happened as the order left."

"So where are these jinxes they put up against Snape?" Harry asks.

"Maybe they're only activated if he shows up?" Weasley suggests.

None of us are eager to vender further into the house, scared of what terrible magic we'll find there. We can't exactly continue to stand here by the door either though. Harry is the first to take a step forwards, most likely activating some sort of spell as a familiar voice comes out of the darkness.

"Severus Snape?"

"We're not Snape," Harry calls back weakly.

Something whooshes out of the darkness the lights can't reach and curls my tongue to the back of my mouth as it washes over me. My hand automatically goes up to my jaw, somehow hoping I can unroll my tongue this way when the magic already vanishes again.

"That m-must have b-been the T-Tongue-Tying-Curse Mad-Eye set up for Snape!" Weasley stammers out, probably still feeling the effect of the spell, as can I.

Unpleasant as that was, I don't believe it could have truly stopped Snape if he had wanted to get back into this house. I don't believe that's the only curse they've placed here.

As Harry takes another step forward, a pale and ghostly figure rises out of the carpet. I hear Granger shriek in front of me as the bearded thing with empty sockets instead of the usual twinkling blue eyes flies towards us with a stretched out hand. My heart literally stops for a second as I watch the semblance of a previous ally charge at us wearing the face of death.

"No," Harry shouts as he lifts his wand at the Dumbledore-like ghost. "No! It wasn't us! We didn't kill you-"

The figure suddenly explodes into a cloud of smoke and ash, filling our lungs. Only when the dust clears do I realise that the painting has been screaming through it the entire time.

"MUDBLOODS, FILTH, STAINS OF DISHONOUR, TAINT OF SHAME ON THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS-"

"Shut up!" Harry bellows, effectively shutting the curtains again, and the woman behind them up, with a flick of the wand.

"That… that was…" Granger whimpers, getting pulled to her feet again by Weasley as she seems to have fallen on her knees when ghostly Dumbledore appeared.

"Yeah, but it wasn't really him, was it? Just something to scare Snape."

Those are the impressive jinxes that are supposed to keep our old Potions Professor out of the previous Order Headquarters; a Tongue-Tying-Curse and a proper scare? That's all the best of the Light wizards could come up with? I alone can think of much more effective traps. Then again, since we're here, maybe it's better no one asked me for suggestions.

"Before we go any further, I think we'd better check," Granger raises her wand. "Homenum revelio."

We all watch as absolutely nothing happens.

"Well, you've just had a big shock," Weasley says kindly. "What was that supposed to do?"

"It did what I meant it to do!" She snaps. "That was a spell to reveal human presence, and there's nobody here except us!"

Homenum revelio. I'm going to remember that one.

Granger leads us up the stairs to the drawing room on the first floor. I try not to look at any of the furniture and remember two summers ago, before I started attending Hogwarts, when Sirius had sat in that very chair, telling me once again of all the mischief he had pulled at the school with my father and Uncle Remus, conveniently letting out Peter Pettigrew's part, as always.

Weasley moves the curtain a bit to see out into the street, to make sure there isn't a Death Eater Squad waiting for us there when Harry suddenly gives out a cry of pain.

"What did you see?" Weasley immediately advances on his best friend after he painfully clutches his forehead. "Did you see him at my place?"

"No, I just felt anger – he's really angry – he – ah!"

Standing next to him, my hand is already reaching out to feel his forehead when I stop myself. My fingertips nearly tingle as a reminder of what happened last time I touched his scar when the link between him and Voldemort was open. I drop my hand back to my side, hoping none of them have noticed my new-found hesitation over all things concerning Harry. I won't touch him again. I have no intention of being in two additional heads at once again. Mine is more than enough to keep me occupied.

"Your scar again?" Granger's voice cuts through my own thoughts. But what's going on? I thought that connection had closed!"

"It did, for a while," The wincing expression on Harry's face doesn't fade, meaning neither does the pain. "I-I think it's started opening again whenever he loses control, that's how it used to-"

"But then, you've got to close your mind! Harry, Dumbledore didn't want you to use that connection he wanted you to shut it down, that's why you were supposed to use Occlumency! Otherwise Voldemort can plant false images in your mind, remember-"

"He remembers!" I spit out, venom dripping from my every word and they both appear to be stunned that I was even following the conversation to begin with since I've been uncharacteristically quiet and uninvolved since we've left The Burrow.

He remembers. We all remember. I'll never forget the events that lead up to Sirius' death.

A silver patronus cuts through the tension by soaring into the room. I don't recognise the shape, but I recognise Weasley's father's voice.

"Families safe, do not reply, we are being watched."

Families. Plural. He said families. That means mine and Harry's as well, right? Judging by the relief on my brother's face I'd say it does. They're safe. Mum is safe. Dad is safe. Remus is safe. Cedric's-

Families. He said families. Not friends or guests or everyone. He didn't say Cedric's name.

What if he's not safe? What if he's hurt? What if he didn't get out of there in time? What if the Death Eaters got to him? What if he's dead? Oh, Merlin, what if I left him there to die?!

"They're safe," Harry clasps my shoulder and looks at me with such a comforting smile, I want to slap it off.

Not everyone is safe. Not by a long shot.

"I…euhm…," I try to swallow the lump in my throat but it only seems to get worse as I stay in this room. "Bathroom."

I bolt out of that room even faster than I did at the café. Instead of locking myself up in the bathroom again, I go down the stairs to the creepy hallway where Dumbledore's terrifying memory haunted us a couple of minutes ago. To the door.

Dad, Mum and Remus are okay. There is something to go back to. I don't have to stay in this house. I can just walk out and still apparate away. I can see if Cedric's okay as well. Please left him be safe. I couldn't live with myself if I just abandoned him there to die.

My hand reaches out towards the door knob, well aware that even if any of them realise I'm leaving, they won't be able to do anything to stop me at this point. But a blue light flying in front of me stops me from turning the handle and running off into the night.

"Don't be reckless."

The three simple words manage to trigger the tears that have been threatening to fall all night. But delivered to me by a patronus in the shape of a dragon with Cedric's voice confirms to me the opposite of what I feared. He's alive! And at least in a well enough state to send me this warning and to let me know that he too got away in time.

I can't stop the sobs from escaping my mouth in a mad exclamation of relief. He's okay. Nothing needs to change if he's okay. I don't have to stay here. I can turn the door knob and apparate to him. I can be in his arms and know that at this point, not even a war, can tear us apart if we don't let it.

A shooting pain through my own forehead harshly reminds me that it's a lie. The headache is not an ache I've ever felt before. Like every sensation I ever feel from my twin, the feeling is hard to pinpoint, as though someone is stabbing at me through sedated skin. But it's not sedated, it's just not my own.

I can feel the pain in his scar now? That's never happened before. I'm not even touching Harry. How is that possible?

Reluctantly I release the door knob and the fantasy of ever seeing Cedric again. Even if I leave right now, I'll never be rid of Harry. No matter the distance, I'll feel every trembling in his body, suffer through any pain he endures, gasp every dying breath he takes.

I'll stay by his side, make sure there will be minimal trembling, only pain I can't take away for him and no dying breath, consequentially fulfilling the prophecy.

I was never really going anywhere, was I?


	7. RAB

_I know, I know, it's been ridiculously long since my last update. I wish I had some really good reason for my absence but the truth is I've just been really busy with other things. So for all of you still following this story: thank you for your patience._

 _I specifically want to thank_ _ **xXMizz Alec VolturiXx, MortMakerz**_ _and_ _ **Lizard21**_ _for their reviews!_

 **Chapter 7**

We all slept in the drawing room together. Granger insisted after the scare we all had. She seemed to have packed four sleeping bags in that beaded handbag of hers. She also told me she shrunk mine and Harry's trunk in there somewhere, which I'm more than eager to get back at the first opportunity. I can tell she didn't open it, since I've placed pretty painful curses on it for anyone who dares try and take a peek inside and she'd definitely have some questions on the Sanguis Cup and the book on the Fhoyle Curse she would have found in there.

I don't think any of us, with the exception of snoring Weasley, slept a wink last night. As usual, I couldn't sleep, mulling over the realisation once again that there is no running away from that stupid prophecy, because there is no running away from Harry.

At some point I must have fallen asleep because as I wake, I'm met with a frantic Granger and an almost equally worried Weasley bend over my sleeping bag covered body.

"Where's Harry?" Granger shrieks into my ears.

How can she be so awake this soon? Well, of course she did sleep on the sofa. It was all very gallant of Weasley but I don't see why she got to claim the best sleeping spot while I, also a girl and related to the new owner of the house, had to sleep on the hard floor with the boys.

I glance to my left where Harry spend the night, only to find an empty sleeping bag. I stretch out and touch the spot next to mine. A cold sleeping bag. He must have already been up a while.

"I don't know," I simply shrug, curling into a ball again to hold onto the warmth and hopefully regain some sleep.

"Let's go find him then," Granger squeals, appalled that my mind's more focused on sleeping than it is on Harry. "He might be hurt."

"He's fine," I yawn.

"How can you say that?" She gasps. "He could be in trouble."

"I'd know if he was," I turn my back towards them and close my eyes.

I just want them to go away. I want all this shit to go away but that's not going to happen so at the very least I deserve the chance to pretend that it will, only a few minutes longer. It seems to work because after heaving another sigh at my non-cooperation, the two of them leave the room, in search of Harry.

He's probably off sulking somewhere. He might pretend to have his head in the game, but I know he must be just as rattled by yesterday's events as we all were. He was trembling when the ghostly appearance of Dumbledore charged at us in the hallway. I can't say I wasn't either. Though Dumbledore plays a rather significant role in some of my nightmares, he appears the way I remember him, not the haunting appearance we faced last night.

No, when I think of him I think of the old man whose usual twinkling eyes were always filled with kindness and compassion. The twinkle is replaced by disappointment and aloofness, the way he looked at me the last time we spoke, when he told me of the dangers of Dark Magic. Whenever I think about him like that, and allow myself to feel guilty for disappointing a man who saw potential in me that had nothing to do with who I'm related to, I get angry at myself. Because why the hell should I care about Dumbledore's opinion of me? This is the man that knew my ultimate purpose was to die and instead enforced the illusion that I would somehow become strong enough to make it out of this war alive. He wasn't helping me, he was just fattening me up like a lamb for slaughter. He never cared about my well-being, perhaps not even Harry's, I suspect. In the end, he would have sacrificed all of us for the survival of the wizarding world. Maybe that's what qualified him as a leader with the ability to save our world, but to me, that makes him a traitor. Every time he claimed to care about me and Harry, said he would do whatever he could in his power to keep us safe and make us strong, it was all just lies. It's a terribly confusing feeling; hating someone who disappointed you that much and simultaneously hating yourself for disappointing them.

Perhaps I should go join the search for Harry, lying here alone with my thoughts only confuses me on who had the right to be angriest. I'm still pretty sure it's me but there's no one to discuss it with.

Reluctantly, I leave my sleeping bag and drag myself up the stairs I heard Weasley and Granger ascend a while ago.

It shouldn't surprise me that it takes me to the landing that contains Sirius' bedroom, as I am familiar with the lay-out of the house, but it still jolts me to find myself only a couple of feet removed from his door. Though Sirius provided this house as Head Quarters for The Order, I know for a fact he avoided coming here as much as he could, which wasn't anywhere near as often as he had hoped. But no matter how many times he was forced to stay in this house, he never went near his old childhood bedroom. I know this because I heard my mother scolding him for childish, evasive behaviour. My dad told her to let him be, said she couldn't understand. While my father always stuck up for his best friend, he had never before put so blatantly for his wife to butt out. I wonder what sort of demons kept Sirius away from the place. Whatever they were, I'm certain I don't want to run into them either. That doesn't prevent me from stopping in front of the door though, as if I could still find a piece of him there.

A noise further down the hallway stops me from actually reaching for the doorknob. For a moment I hesitate to just ignore it and open the door anyway. But in the end I choose to let the demons sleep and trot down the hallway I can hear the trio's voices coming from.

I glance through the open doorway to see them trashing what I suppose was once a neatly organised room. I would love nothing more than to join in on what I can only assume is an outlet for frustrations but they're supposed to be the sane ones. So what's going on?

"What are you doing?" I frown at them.

"Danny!" Harry smiles at me breathlessly, as though he had forgotten I was even in the building and this is some surprise visit. "We've found him!"

"Found who?"

"R.A.B."

"What?" I gape at his eager expression.

We've been wrecking our brains, trying to come up with who this stranger could be that discovered Voldemort's secret long before even Dumbledore got on the trail. And now Harry figured it out? Call me arrogant, but I figured if anyone could solve this mystery it was me, or Granger. Harry's contribution is usually charging in with wand at the ready and brain function turned off.

He comes up to me at the door and points to a little note, written in curvy letters.

 _Do not Enter_

 _Without the Express Permission of_

 _Regulus Arcturus Black_

"Regulus Arcturus Black?" I read aloud. "R.A.B."

"He was a Death Eater! Sirius told me about him, he joined up when he was really young and then got cold feet and tried to leave – so they killed him!"

 _"He became a Death Eater, got the mark and made our parents proud. When he properly realised he was following a mad man, it was already too late. Voldemort killed him before he even had the chance to betray him."_

Maybe Sirius was wrong and his younger brother did see the opportunity to betray the mad man he had been following and grabbed a Horcrux right from under his nose. He could be R.A.B. It fits! Which means-

"The locket!" I gasp, suddenly understanding the house search much better. "Is it here? Did you find it?!"

If Regulus Black is the one who exchanged the real locket for the fake one Dumbledore and Harry risked their lives for, then he must have kept it close by. It has to be here.

"No," Harry's eagerness makes way for disappointment. "We've looked everywhere in the room."

"It could still be anywhere else in the house!" I insist.

"Whether he'd managed to destroy it or not, he'd want to keep it hidden from Voldemort, wouldn't he?" Granger agrees. "Remember all those awful things we had to get rid off when we were here last time? That clock that shot bolts at everyone and those old robes that tried to strangle Ron; Regulus might have put them there to protect the locket's hiding place, even though we didn't realise it at… at…."

She seems to lose the end of her sentence somewhere along the line, like she's suffering from acute memory loss, or has just been obliviated.

"Granger?" I frown.

"There was a locket."

"What?"

"In the cabinet in the drawing room. Nobody could open it. And we… we…"

She seems to be once again incapable of finishing a sentence but by the look on Harry's and Weasley's faces, it's clear they remember said locket in the cabinet in the drawing room as well. I don't but I think I can safely assume, judging by their horrified expression, they didn't just lock it away for safekeeping. Please tell me they didn't throw away our only lead on this Horcrux hunt, not to mention a piece of Voldemort's soul could now be available at some second-hand shop for fifty percent off.

"Kreacher nicked loads of things back from us," Harry suddenly says. "He had a whole stash of stuff in his cupboard in the kitchen. C'mon."

Harry doesn't wait for a reply as he rushes down the stairs, with so much ruckus it wakes the bloody painting of Walburga Black again. She's still screaming profanities at us as the three of us follow him to the kitchen where he seems to have already wrenched open the cupboard belonging to the vilest house elf in existence. If Kreacher does keep any trinkets in his 'room', then he hides it well because aside from the dirty cloth Harry's shaking and the dead mouse that rolls out of it, the cupboard is empty.

"It's not over yet," Harry shakes his head. "Kreacher!"

As the new master of this house, the terrible excuse of a being has no choice but to obey his master's summoning and in front of us appears the sad little frame with the scowling face I've learned to hate. While the Black's residence's house elf is not mainly the reason I didn't want to return to Grimauld Place, he's not exactly making the experience any more pleasant. Now that I've learned to despise new people and new things in life, I suppose I half-expected to have exhausted all my hatred on others but the sight of Kreacher in front of us still invokes the same feelings that burned hot in my gut the last time I laid eyes on the traitor.

"Master," It croaks as it forcefully bends the knee. " back in my mistress's old house with the blood traitor Weasley and the Mudblood-"

"I forbid you to call anyone 'blood traitor' or 'Mudblood' ," Harry growls at him and for the first time makes me wonder if maybe, for all his big talk on what happened also being Sirius' fault for mistreating the house elf, Harry does hate him too. "I've got a question for you, and I order you to answer it truthfully."

"Yes, Master," He bows his head. Well, even when he's not allowed to utter his favourite words it's still pretty obvious that Kreacher really does hate everyone in this room as well.

"Two years ago, there was a big golden locket in the drawing room upstairs. We threw it out. Did you steal it back?"

"Yes."

Not what I was expecting. I figured the locket would just be lost and that would be that and we'd have no way of figuring out our next move on this trip from hell. Instead, we have a lead, and it came out of Kreacher's mouth, of all places.

"Where is it now?" Harry asks gleefully.

"Gone."

And that's about it for the joyous moment.

"Gone? What do you mean, it's gone?"

The elf doesn't answer.

"Kreacher, I order you-"

"Mundungus Fletcher," He croaks, closing his eyes as though they burn when he looks at his Master, it's quite understandable. "Mundungus Fletcher stole it all: Miss Bella and Miss Cissy's pictures, my mistress's gloves, the Order of Merlin, First Class, the goblets with the family crest, and, and – and the locket, master Regulus' locket, Kreacher did wrong, Kreacher failed in his orders!"

He reaches for the poker by the fireplace, ready to beat himself with it for defying his late master's orders. Before he can hurt himself in any way, Harry launches himself at him, flattening him to the floor, incapacitating the elf of hitting himself with the poker.

"Harry, let him up!" Granger whisper-shouts.

"So he can beat himself with the poker? I don't think so."

"Let him."

"Danny!" Granger whirls around to look at me with wide eyes. "It's a evil and cruel."

"Seems like a good fit for Kreacher," I hiss venomously at the whimpering thing on the floor.

"How can you say that when-"

"Kreacher, I want the truth," Harry returns our attention to the conversation. "How do you know Mundungus Fletcher stole the locket?"

"Kreacher saw him!" Fat tears roll down the usually frowning and scowling face. "Kreacher saw him coming out of Kreacher's cupboard with his hands full of Kreacher's treasures, Kreacher told the sneakthief to stop, but Mundungus Fletcher laughed and r-ran…"

"You called the locket 'Master Regulus's', why? Where did it come from? What did Regulus have to do with it? Kreacher, sit up and tell me everything you know about that locket, and everything Regulus had to do with it!"

He sits up, only to curl back into a foetal position and rock himself back and forth. To my surprise, actual words come out.

"Master Sirius ran away, good riddance, for he was a bad boy and broke my mistress's heart with his lawless ways," In my attempt at preventing myself to lash out at him with one of the available frying pans next to the stove, I painfully dig my nails into the palms of my hand, to the point of drawing blood. "But Master Regulus had proper pride; he knew what was due to the name of Black and the dignity of his pure blood. For years he talked of the Dark Lord, who was going to bring the wizards out of hiding to rule the Muggles and the Muggle-borns… and when he was sixteen years old, Master Regulus joined the Dark Lord. So proud, so proud, so happy to serve…"

I already didn't like the brother that shunned Sirius and became a Death Eater. Kreacher's description isn't exactly painting a more pleasant picture.

"And one day, a year after he had joined, Master Reguls came down to the kitchen to see Kreacher. Master Regulus always liked Kreacher. And Master Regulus said... he said…" Kreacher's rocking so fast now, I might actually worry he's going to fall over painfully if I gave a damn. "…he said that the Dark Lord required an elf."

"Voldemort needed an _elf_?" Harry repeats, sounding as puzzled with that piece of information as the rest of us.

"Oh, yes. And Master Regulus had volunteered Kreacher. It was an honour, said Master Regulus, an honour for him and for Kreacher, who must be sure to do whatever the Dark lord ordered him to do… and then to c-come home. So Kreacher went to the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord did not tell Kreacher what they were to do, but took Kreacher with him to a cave beside the sea. And beyond the cave there was a cavern, and in the cavern was a great, black lake…"

That sounds awfully familiar….

"…. There was a boat…"

And Harry must agree because he looks like Kreacher just conjured up the dead.

"There was a b-basin full of potion on the island. The D-Dark Lord made Kreacher drink it…"

It's where Harry found the locket, where Dumbledore got so weakened by the potion he had to drink to gain access to it that he was defenceless when Snape came to kill him.

"Kreacher drank, and as he drank, he saw terrible things… Kreacher's insides burned… Kreacher cried for Master Regulus to save him, he cried for his Mistress Black, but the Dark Lord only laughed… he made Kreacher drink all the potion… he dropped a locket into the empty basin… he filled it with more potion. And then the Dark Lord sailed away, leaving Kreacher on the island. Kreacher needed water, he crawled to the island's edge and he drank from the black lake… and hands, dead hands, came out of the water and dragged Kreacher under the surface…"

"How did you get away?" Harry whispers.

"Master Regulus told Kreacher to come back."

"I know – but how did you escape the Inferi?"

"Master Regulus told Kreacher to come back," He simply repeats.

"I know – but,"

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it, Harry?" Weasley exclaims next to me. "He Disapparated!"

"But… you couldn't Apparate in and out of that cave," Harry says. "Otherwise Dumbledore-"

"Elf magic isn't like wizard's magic, is it? I mean, they can Apparate and Disapparate in and out of Hogwarts when we can't."

It seems like a silly mistake for Voldemort to make. Harry agrees because he looks unconvinced. But Kreacher obviously made it out alive because he's whimpering right in front of us.

"Of course," Granger says. "Voldemort would have considered the ways of house-elves far beneath his notice, just like all the pure-bloods who treat them like animals… it would never have occurred to him that they might have magic that he didn't."

"The house-elf's highest law is his master's bidding," Kreacher speaks as though he's coming back out of some kind of trance, or a hellish trip down memory lane. "Kreacher was told to come home, so Kreacher came home…"

"Well, then, you did what you were told, didn't you?" Granger says kindly. "You didn't disobey orders at all!"

"No," I sneer. "He takes them quite literal."

She might be able to forget that Kreacher taking the order to get out as an order to leave the house and visit the Black sisters a.k.a. loyal Voldemort supporters, is the action that got the ball rolling in events that ultimately led to his previous master's death, but I never will.

"So what happened when you got back? What did Regulus say when you told him what had happened?"

"Master Regulus was very worried, very worried. Master Regulus told Kreacher to stay hidden, and not to leave the house. And then… it was a little while later… Master Regulus came to find Kreacher in his cupboard one night, and Master Regulus was strange, not as he usually was, disturbed in his mind, Kreacher could tell… and he asked Kreacher to take him to the cave, the cave where Kreacher had gone with the Dark Lord…"

"And he made you drink the potion?" Harry asks, sounding disgusted.

As someone who witnessed firsthand the torture the potion put the drinker through, I believe Harry would be appalled to hear of anyone enduring the same experience. I just hope he's not disgusted on Kreacher's behalf specifically.

"M-Master Regulus took from his pocket a locket like the one the Dark Lord had. And he told K-Kreacher to take it and, when the basin was empty, to switch the lockets... And he ordered – Kreacher to leave – without him. And he told Kreacher – to go home – and never to tell my mistress – what he had done – but to destroy – the first locket. And he drank – all the potion – and Kreacher swapped the lockets – and watched… as Master Regulus… was dragged beneath the water… and…"

Throughout Kreacher's wailing, Granger's eyes have been tearing up at the tale until she eventually can't stand still any longer and drops to her knees and tries to throw her arms around the house elf in what I'm sure she intended as a comforting hug. But instead it results in Kreacher yelling profanities at her in distain. Profanities that Harry had forbidden him from using, resulting in him having to punish himself. And Granger, whose inappropriate affection is the reason for Kreacher's self-punishment, yells at Harry to make him stop as if he somehow gave the order for the punishment.

As I watch them all yell at each other, I realise that even I, who hates Kreacher, in a way that I fear I already hate too many people, can't take some sick enjoyment in watching him punish himself. Because watching the ugly little house elf punish himself while simultaneously crying over the loss of his precious Master Regulus is one of the saddest things I've ever seen. I never thought I'd see the day I actually feel pity for the thing. But it's quickly replaced with anger once more when I remind myself why he has to obey Harry's order of not using 'Mudblood'. Because he's his new master and that's only so because Kreacher sneakily got rid of the previous one.

"So you brought the locket home?" Harry asks impatiently as everyone has finally calmed down. "And you tried to destroy it?'

"Nothing Kreacher did made any mark upon it," Kreacher moans. "Kreacher tried everything, everything he knew, but nothing, nothing would work… so many powerful spells upon the casing, Kreacher was sure the way to destroy it was to get inside it, but it would not open… Kreacher punished himself, he tried again, he punished himself, he tried again. Kreacher failed to obey orders, Kreacher could not destroy the locket! And his mistress was mad with grief, because Master Regulus had disappeared, and Kreacher could not tell her what had happened, no, because Master Regulus had f –f – forbidden him to tell any of the f – f – family what happened in the c – c – cave…"

I can agree that it's not a fun tale but I don't find any reason for the wet tears on Granger's cheeks or the troubled expression Weasley's wearing. This is still the house elf that betrayed us! At long last there seems to be someone else who remembers that.

"I don't understand you, Kreacher," Harry sighs. "Voldemort tried to kill you, Regulus dies to bring Voldemort down, but you were still happy to betray Sirius to Voldemort? You were happy to go to Narcissa and Bellatrix, and pass information to Voldemort through them…"

"Harry, Kreacher doesn't think like that," Granger says. "He's a slave; house-elves are used to bad, even brutal treatment; what Voldemort did to Kreacher wasn't that far out of the common way. What do wizard wars mean to an elf like Kreacher? He's loyal to people who are kind to him, and Mrs Black must have been, and Regulus certainly was, so he served them willingly and parroted their beliefs. I know what you're going to say; that Regulus changed his mind… but he doesn't seem to have explained that to Kreacher, does he? And I think I know why. Kreacher and Regulus' family were all safer if they kept to the old pure-blood line. Regulus was trying to protect them all."

"Sirius-"

The mention of his name from Harry's mouth, who usually avoids mentioning him altogether, stings. But not as much as the next words.

"Sirius was horrible to Kreacher, Harry, and it's no good-"

"Shut up!" I snarl at Granger.

"Danny, I know you find it hard to hear but if he had just been-"

" . !" I howl.

I can't stand how she finds it so easy to judge Sirius, a man she did not know at all, for not being kind to a creature that was a part of the horrible childhood he suffered here. How can she be so filled with sympathy for a murderous house elf but have none for our deceased uncle? And I especially can't understand why Harry is fine with letting her say those things.

"I just-"

"Can you shut that annoying pie hole of yours, for just one second!? I don't care what your fucking S.P.E.W. beliefs are, you don't get to talk about Sirius like that!" I turn to Harry with the same anger. "And you shouldn't just stand there and let her!"

He seems to be struck with shock that I somehow found a way to turn this against him and that oblivious surprise just makes me angrier. I think it's best I remove myself from the scene before I do something they'll find inappropriate like call Granger a few colourful words or try to throttle Kreacher, especially after the sob story he just played for us.

I storm out of the kitchen, only to make a right turn before the staircase, entering the room with the family tree of the Noble and Ancient Line of Black. I don't know why I feel the need to come here, since it makes me more depressed than anything but there's also something soothing about glaring at the picture next to the burn mark.

Allowing me to have some time to supposedly calm down, Harry only enters the room about half an hour after I yelled at him and his friend.

"This is probably the last place I'd think of finding you."

Maybe that's why I came here.

"Are you here to make me apologise?" I glare at him.

"We both know that doesn't work," He sighs, sliding down the wall opposite Sirius' burn mark to sit next to me. "Hermione's actually not as upset as I would have expected."

"I don't really care whether she is or not," I scoff.

"We're going to be spending a lot of time together now, Danny, and it would just make things slightly easier if you could find a way to get along."

"I'm not here for them," I frown. "I'm here for you, they're just an unfortunate side-effect that I will deal with."

"I'm not expecting you to become friends-"

"Good, because that's never happening."

"But maybe we can find a peaceful compromise?"

Me and Granger are never going to be pals, just like me and Weasley will never like one another. I could blame it on our different characters but if I'm completely honest with myself, I know that it's mostly because ever since Harry met both of them, I've felt threatened by them. I used think it was silly to feel that way because no matter how close friends get, family is always most important. But time has only shown me that my brother's friends are on equal footing with me, his twin-sister he grew up with, shared every waking moment with until the age of eleven and with who he shares an absurd telepathically bond that not even one of the smartest wizards of all times could properly explain. Why shouldn't I dislike them for stealing a place in Harry's life that once upon a time belonged to me? And yet, at the same time, I'm grateful that when I'm gone, he'll still have something aching to siblings.

"She needs to shut up about Sirius," I tell him firmly. "There's not compromise in that."

Even if he's accepted them as family-like people, that doesn't mean they're part of our family. And therefore, they have to shut up about it.

"I'm sure she can agree to that," He nods. "But then you have to refrain from telling her to shut her pie hole."

"Fine," I consent. "There are many other things I can call it."

"Danny."

"Okay, I'll try to control myself."

That's really all I can promise. We both know it's only a matter of time before one of them says something that ticks me off. I'm no good at controlling my impulses.

"I miss him too, you know."

Harry's sudden confession takes me a bit by surprise. I figured Sirius was one of those forbidden subjects between us, just like nightmares, sadistic streaks and that time I nearly poisoned his best friend.

"I know," I sigh.

I am aware of it, I just wish he could be lashing out about it a bit more. It would be nice to have some company in that.

"I ordered Kreacher to go find and bring back Mundungus Fletcher."

"Why did you have to ruin the moment?" I grimace at the mention of the creature I never want to see again.

"I thought you might want to know we're following the new lead. I'm sure it might take a while but I believe Kreacher will succeed and then we can finally get the real Horcrux."

"We could go find him ourselves."

I don't think Kreacher possesses any skill set that I don't.

"One house elf might be a more subtle approach. Besides, there are Death Eaters posted outside, keeping an eye on the house. We don't want to do anything to draw attention."

"Death Eaters? Do you think they followed us here?"

"No, if they knew we're here, they would have already tried to get in. It's just a precaution."

Doesn't settle my nerves in any way though.

"Kreacher won't be detected by them and then-"

"Stop relying on him, Harry! It's a disgusting little thing." I dig up an old argument that was never really buried.

"I don't like him either, but he's not-"

"Yes, he is."

Whatever it is Harry was going to use in the house elf's defence, it's probably a massive euphemism for the thing that betrayed our uncle.

"Then what would you have me do with him?"

"Order him to drown himself in the Black Lake. He can't refuse."

Harry stares at me, struck somewhere between shock at my serious words or amusement in case it's a joke.

"That's not funny," He eventually frowns.

"I'm not joking." I tell him in all seriousness.

"Sometimes it scares me that I believe that."

And at the same time he also looks kind of sad.

"Let's go find something to eat in here," I change the subject and rise to my feet. "I'm starving."

Evasion has always been my friend.


	8. Defying Faith?

_I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's been a ridiculously long time since I've updated this story. I could tell you all about how other things have occupied my mind, but really there's no excuse. I just haven't been feeling like writing for a while and when I do it's for stories I've been more excited about than this one. I suppose coming so close to the end, kind of makes me reluctant to finish it._

 _Either way, that you for everyone who's still following this story, in particular_ _ **xXMizz Alec VolturiXx**_ _and sorry for the long absence. I hope I won't repeat it but I'm starting to feel like I can't make such promises._

 **Chapter 8**

Kreacher doesn't return that day, or the day after that. As I'm not too keen to be in the vile creature's presence, it should give me some space to breathe. But instead I'm left cooped up in a house with a paranoid wonder boy, a frustrated know-it-all and an idiot who keeps on putting out the lights with the Deluminator Dumbledore left him. Not to mention the presence I can feel all the way inside of the Death Eaters watching the house. If anything, my nerves have only been singed off even more. It doesn't exactly help to be trapped in here, the way I suppose Sirius felt trapped in here at one point in his life. Knowing Dumbledore's Pensive is sitting in my room, because Granger insists we 'figure out' why we were left those things, hasn't exactly made for a good night sleep.

When I walk out of the bathroom and get down the stairs, I run into Harry escaping a room where Granger and Weasley are yelling at each other again. Close proximity seems to drive them apart, rather than together. And both of us mad in the process.

"Bickering?' I frown at him.

"Yeah," He sighs, looking as tired as I feel.

"Hey, I was thinking," I start. "Do you reckon it's safe to send a letter to mum and dad now?"

They're not the only people I want to get in touch with but I'm certain Harry will tell me not to get in touch with Cedric. At least when it concerns our parents, he will understand the need to reach out to them and reassure them.

"I don't think that's a good idea," He shakes his head solemnly.

"I wouldn't put down any important information, of course. I know all mediums of communication are being watched. Just something to let them know we're safe and we think of them."

I know I would love to get a message like that from him.

"Even if the message isn't of great importance, the route it would take is. It's not worth the risk if it leads the Death Eaters to our hide-out or theirs. Surely you understand that?"

"I do," I sigh.

He makes a very good point but I just want some sign that the outside world hasn't forgotten about us, about me.

"Good," He nods severely before walking further down the hallway.

I guess that's it for the social contact of today. Even though it's rather painful to remain in Harry's company for too long, I find myself just as miserable by myself. I miss people, more specifically people other than the three I'm stuck with inside this house. Never thought I'd see the day where I tire of Harry's companionship. The fact that I'm over Granger and Weasley's constant presence is much less of a surprise. I guess I'll just go read another book in the library, again.

The private library of the Black family is surprisingly more interesting than I expected. I assumed Sirius or some other member of The Order would have burned most of it as part of the cleansing ritual this house required when transformed to Headquarters. But I discovered a small corner tucked away in the back of the library that the cleaning squad apparently never got to 'ridding' of evil content. And while I have somewhat enjoyed reading about the darker aspect of magic, I know I'll never get to using any of it. With the Fhoyle Curse, Legilimency and the use of the Imperius Curse, I think I'm up for my quota of questionable magic. Wouldn't want to disappoint a certain ghost even more than I already have.

I'm absorbed by a book about The Drink of Despair – it's about as pleasant as it sounds – when I hear something rapping on the window. I'm surprised to turn to the source of the sound and find a large barn owl staring back at me from behind the glass. I don't recognise the creature but I recognise the handwriting on the note attached to the parcel it is carrying.

 _Figured you could use the head's up. Be careful._

Everyone's so short with me these days in their messages. But I know Wayne took a great risk In trying to get this message to me. I'm not even sure how his owl managed to track me down in the first place. Knowing the package must contain something of great importance to me, I quickly rip it open, ignoring the owl's painful nips in an attempt to getting a snack from me.

 _WANTED FOR QUESTIONING ABOUT THE DEATH OF ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

That is the headliner of the Daily Prophet that I am greeted with, along with a page-sized photograph of my brother.

It can only mean one thing. Not only the Ministry but the press as well is now in hands of the Death Eaters. And what better way to get the people to turn in their supposed saviour if he is wanted for questioning surrounding the suspicious circumstances of our previous Headmaster's death? I can't show this to Harry. Even though it is a blatant lie, the mere suggestion that he was somehow involved, or even fully responsible, for Dumbledore's death, will break his heart. And yet, I can't keep this from him either. He needs to know what the public might believe of him now.

It's a rather clever ruse. Harry has become the symbol of rebellion, a beacon of hope for those who dare even think of opposing Voldemort. By compromising his integrity, by tying him to the pervious hero's death, some people might doubt the saviour they so desperately dubbed Harry to be.

But he's not the only one the Daily Prophet, and in fact Voldemort, is going after. I find an equally worrisome article on the second page.

 _The Ministry of Magic is undertaking a survey of so-called Muggle-borns, the better to understand how they came to possess magical secrets. Recent research undertaken by the Department of Mysteries reveals that magic can only be passed from person to person when wizards reproduce. Where no proven wizarding ancestry exists, therefore, the so-called Muggle-born is likely to have obtained magical power by theft or force._

 _The Ministry is determined to root out such usurpers of magical power, and to this end has issued an invitation to every so-called Muggle-born to present themselves for interview by the newly appointed Muggle-born Registration Commission._

This is utter bullshit. Under the unbelievable guise of giving them the opportunity to prove their ancestry, Voldemort is rooting out Muggle-borns and any he deems of unworthy origin. He's organising a subtle massacre as you better believe the ones condemned guilty of 'stealing magic' aren't going to an amusement park.

No matter the other's reactions to this, they need to see it. I silently thank Wayne for his unwavering loyalty and resourcefulness before abandoning my research to return to the people who can't seem to be in the same room without fighting. I'm rather lucky to find all three of them in the kitchen, with no one looking like they're about to set off on a screaming rant.

"You guys have to see this," I tell them as I slap the Daily Prophet in the middle of the table.

I watch the same emotions that I felt when first reading the articles pass on all their faces though Harry completely closes off as soon as he's read the title on the front page, not at all the heartbreaking reaction I expected.

"They can't do this!" Granger reacts in outrage.

"They can and they have. They're rounding up muggle-borns as we speak, under the flimsiest of pretence but I'm surprised Voldemort even bothered to come up with some kind of ruse," I huff.

While me, Granger and even Weasley are discussing on how Muggle-borns could possibly elude Voldemort and his followers now, especially if we assume he's taken control of Hogwarts as well, Harry seems to pay more attention to some article at the back of the Daily Prophet. Before I've got the chance to ask him what the hell could be more important than what we're talking about right now, a deafening crack sounds through the kitchen.

"Kreacher has returned with the thief Mundungus Fletcher, Master," An all too familiar voice croaks once we've gotten over the shock of the sudden apparition.

Mundungus Fletcher is in fact lying on the kitchen floor. As he attempts to crawl back on his feet and draw his wand, Granger quickly disarms him with an Expeliarmus. He must have some inkling of why he's been brought back here because as soon as he's lost possession of his wand, he makes a run for the door. Unfortunately for him, Weasley reacts almost as quickly as his girlfriend and tackles him to the stone floor. Those were some pretty good reflexes. I knew there had to be a reason Harry keeps those two around. Good to finally get some proof of their merit. Well, mostly Weasley's. I've always known Granger had her uses.

"What?" He tried to wiggle out of Weasley's grip without much success. "Wha've I done? Setting a bleedin' 'ouse-elf on me, what are you playing at, wha've I done, lemme go, lemme go, or-"

"Or what?" I scoff angrily at the pitiful excuse of a man.

"You're not in much of a position to make threats," Harry says.

He's quick to cross the room and drop down on his knees in front of Mundungus Fletcher to point his wand at him.

"Kreacher apologises for the delay in bringing the thief, Master. Fletcher knows how to avoid capture, has many hidey-holes and accomplices. Nevertheless, Kreacher cornered the thief in the end."

I don't think that voice will ever not make my skin crawl spontaneously. I don't see how Harry isn't suffering from the same affliction. Instead he compliments the thing on a job well done.

"Right, we've got a few questions for you," Harry tells the guy who at the same time screams out.

"Why the 'ell am I being 'unted down by 'ouse-elves? Or is this about them goblets again? I ain't got none of 'em left, or you could 'ave 'em-"

"It's not about the goblets, although you're getting warmer," Harry says. "Shut up and listen. When you cleaned out this house of anything valuable,"

Fletcher is stupid enough to interrupt Harry again.

"Sirius never cared about any of the junk-"

Before anyone can stop him – and let's be honest none of us had the intention of doing so – Kreacher lets out a shriek of agony before launching himself on the thief again. Where did he suddenly get the frying pan from he's hitting the guy over the head with? If I didn't absolutely loathe the creature and he wasn't responsible for my uncle's death and he wasn't, you know, Kreacher, I might have actually warmed up to it in this moment.

"Call 'im off, call 'im off, 'e should be locked up!" His victim screams.

"Kreacher, no!"

Surprisingly, the house-elf listens to his master and the pan freezes mid-air.

"Perhaps just one more, Master Harry, for luck?"

Weasley laughs. I don't want anyone else warming up to him either. This is still the vile creature that indirectly killed Sirius. Even if he seems to have picked up a sense of humour on his trip.

"We need him conscious, Kreacher, but if he needs persuading you can do the honours," Harry says.

"Thank you very much, Master," Kreacher… bows?

"When you stripped this house of all the valuables you could find, you took a bunch of stuff from the kitchen cupboard. There was a locket there. What did you do with it?"

His question is of the utmost importance. It will finally give us a lead on a horcrux. I can see the other three leaning in, just as eager for a lead as I am.

"Why?" Mundungus asks. "Was it valuable?"

"You've still got it!"

"No, he hasn't," Weasley says. "He's wondering whether he should have asked more money for it."

"More? That wouldn't have been effing difficult… bleedin' gave it away, di'n I? No choice."

"What do you mean?" I frown.

""I was selling in Diagon Alley an' she come up to me an' asks if I've got a license for trading in magical artefacts. Bleedin' snoop. She was gonna fine me. But she took fancy to the locket an' told me she'd take it and let me off that time an' to think meself lucky."

"Who was this woman?"

"I dunno, some Ministry hag. Little woman. Bow on top of 'er head," He frowns before continuing. "Looked like a toad."

Oh, Merlin. Please don't tell me that's true. Please don't tell me the locket with part of Voldemort's soul is in the hands of Harry's other arch nemesis: Dolores Umbridge.

"Umbridge," Granger gasps out loud what we're all thinking.

We are fucked. How on earth are we supposed to retrieve the locket from Umbridge?!

Harry dismisses Mundungus Fletcher shortly after receiving the information that pretty much ruins all the positive attitude this new lead gave us. There's no way we can smoothly retrieve the horcrux now.

"We're fucked!" I say what I assume we're all thinking anyway.

"Yeah," Weasley reluctantly agrees.

"At least we know where it is now," Granger says hopefully.

"In Umbridge's hands!" I shout. "We'd have better luck retrieving it from Voldemort himself!"

"We'll think of something," Harry tries to lighten the news. "In the meantime we finally know the goal we are working towards. You did good, Kreacher."

The house-elf looks surprised at the praise but not as reluctant to accept it as he usually is. Please don't tell me the thing is warming up to his new master?!

"Well, he was bound to get something right," I hiss angrily.

"Danny," Granger, protector of deathly house-elves and traitors alike, sounds offended on Kreacher's behalf. "That's very rude. Kreacher did wonderfully."

"Apparently you and I have very different ideas on what it should be doing," I grumble.

"He's a he, Danny, and you should treat him with more respect."

"I'll let you do that, in the meantime, Harry, I urge you to take my idea of what to do with Kreacher in serious consideration."

"Huh?" Granger turns to Harry in confusion. "What did she suggest?"

Harry looks a bit uncomfortable at being caught in the crossfire.

"She was just joking," He laughs awkwardly.

"I was not."

"What did she say?" Granger's frown only deepens.

"She sugg- no, joked, that I… euhm… order Kreacher to… well,-"

"Drown himself," I easily finish the sentence that Harry apparently cannot pronounce.

"Danny!" She gasps my name in indignation, something she seems to be doing a lot. "That is horrible."

"And yet a fitting end to _it_ ," I nod.

"She doesn't mean that," Harry quickly says.

"It kind of looks as though she does, mate," Weasley frowns.

"No, she doesn't," He insists. "Danny may really hate Kreacher and speak of misfortunes to befall him but she would never actively want to hurt someone like that."

It's as though he doesn't know me at all. And I'm sure the three expressions he's looking at convey exactly that.

"She wouldn't. You wouldn't. And I'll prove it to you. Kreacher!"

The house-elf stands to attention.

"Anything Danny tells you to, I want you to heed her orders as you would mine. Her words are to be taken as my own."

"Harry!" Granger shrieks. "You can't do that!"

"I just did."

"But you know what she will tell him to do and if he has to listen to her, as he does to you, then-"

"Exactly," Harry nods enthusiastically, quite pleased at his own actions. "And Danny can prove to you once and for all that no matter her feelings regarding Kreacher, she wouldn't make such an order."

Harry looks at me filled with expectations, confident that I will meet them. Weasley looks much more dubious. Granger stares at me in horror, as though I already executed Kreacher's murder. And Kreacher himself looks as though he doesn't care one bit whether I order him to end his own life or to bake me cookies.

I have to admit that for all the talk I made about ordering Kreacher's demise, I hadn't given much thought to the unlikely occasion that I might actually be presented with the opportunity. Now it is here and I'm not quite sure what to do with it. On the one hand, I really do loathe the creature. He made Sirius' life hell, his betrayal is responsible for Sirius' death and given another chance he would do that same to Harry, a new master who he might actually despise even more than his previous one. I meant every word when I told my brother to get rid of the treacherous house-elf, the more permanent the better. Now his life rests in my hands and perhaps it is not as easy a choice as I made it out to be.

I wouldn't mourn the house-elf for one second if he were to die, but I suppose, I can't be responsible for it.

"You're dismissed," I hiss angrily at Kreacher who bows, sarcastically, before disapparating.

"I knew it!" Harry exclaims happily. "I told you that-"

I angrily slap away the arm he was about to throw over my shoulder, pleased with me proving him right, or at least something akin to it.

"Stop trying to continuously push me to doing the right thing, or at least what you consider to be the right thing," I snap at him. "Because one day, I will, inevitably, let you down."

The other people in the kitchen are silent as I storm out and make my way to my room. I'm not as angry as I was a minute ago by the time I close my bedroom door behind me, but I'm still plenty pissed. We've established long ago that Harry and I don't see eye to eye on the whole righteousness thing. And that's fine. He's more comfortable on moral high ground and it's not a problem that we have different ideas on what the right thing to do is. It does, however, become a problem when Harry forces his ideas on me. What just occurred in the kitchen is an extreme case of it but Harry's always forced me to follow his path to morality and judges me when I make different choices. He's such an asshole about it sometimes.

Fine, I can admit that ordering Kreacher to drown himself in the Black Lake might be a far cry from being a little nasty to some first year Slytherin that's standing in my way. But I make all those decisions with my own conscious in mind, his has nothing to do with it. And I'm sick of him making it his business.

Merlin, close proximity is not good for our relationship. Then again, it's already strained with the whole I-am-prophesised-to-die-for-you thing. That's no good either. And we're back on the prospect of me dying soon again. No matter what I do, it never strays far from my mind. I've thought about it over and over and over again. Nothing's changed. I'm still well aware that the alternative is not a viable option, but at the same time, I'm doubting more and more whether I'm actually capable of making such a sacrifice.

And I'm stuck in that head space again. Unlike the summer, I don't have my family or letters from my friends helping me to think of other things. Not that it was very successful but at least it was something.

I wish I could talk to someone about this but the only people available are the boy I'm supposed to die for and his annoying friends. Even if there was someone around I could open up to like Wayne or maybe even Cedric, there's no way I can tell anyone about this. I fear I'll just have to take this to my grave, which I'm afraid might be pretty soon.

Even if I can't tell them, I do miss them; Wayne, Charlotte, Noa, mum, dad, Remus, and most of all, Cedric.

There's a memory that keeps coming to mind lately, of a conversation we had the summer before my sixth year. It gave me the chills in that moment, but there's a certain truth in it now that I look back on it.

" _You're always so busy,"_ _I huff at Cedric as I watch him fill in another application from my lounging position on his couch. "We're at your house, alone. Your parents are gone. And you're doing paperwork."_

 _It would be insulting that he's not jumping my bones right now, if I didn't know how driven a guy he is. I don't have to take his attention being elsewhere personally, but I don't have to like it either._

" _I just need to get this done, and then we can do whatever you want," He tells me without actually looking at me._

" _Anything?" I smirk seductively._

" _Anything," He give me a heated stare from across the room now. "And especially that."_

 _I concede to waiting just a little while longer and get up from the couch to walk over to him and see what it is exactly that's keeping him focused instead of all over me._

" _You're volunteering at an animal shelter?" I frown, looking down at the application. "Why?"_

" _Why not?" He shrugs._

" _Because you're already going to be busy next year with your Healer training, the hours you offered to volunteer at the Ministry, helping out your mother with the garden you suggested she should keep and helping your friends with their application, not to mention all the letters you promised to write to me." I press a kiss to his cheek._

" _I can do all that."_

" _Don't take too much on your plate, especially stuff you don't have to do, like volunteer work."_

 _I'm sure that, once the Healer program kicks off, he'll have his hands more than full with that challenge. He still needs time to pay me attention as well. I know, it's all very selfish of me but that shouldn't be a new revelation._

" _Let me tell you something," He breathes deeply, pushes away his parchment and pulls me into his lap. "I know it's going to sound weird. But I feel very strongly about it and it's been on my mind a lot lately."_

 _He sounds so serious. Can't have that. I need to diffuse the situation._

" _You secretly want to be a dog? That's the reason you want to get into the animal shelter?" I smile._

" _Let's not joke right now," He smiles bitterly._

 _Guess this really is a serious conversation._

" _Okay," I nod soberly. "I'm listening."_

" _I've been thinking about the events at the graveyard at the end of the Triwizard Tournemant."_

" _Why?" I frown._

 _That was not a good day, on many, many accounts. I don't want to think about that day ever again, how close Harry came to death, how Cedric could have easily died, how I could have lost him before I even got to really know him. What a terrible waste that would have been. And I wouldn't even have realised what I would have lost that day. Let's never think about it again._

" _The only reason I am standing here is because Harry's quick reflexes saved my life, and your out-of-body presence warned him. It could very easily have gone differently."_

 _I don't want to hear that, even though he clearly wants to talk about it. I bury my face in the crook of his neck and squeeze his torso tightly, just to reassure myself that the picture he paints didn't happen and he's still here._

" _I don't even want to think about that possibility," I whisper against his skin._

" _I know," He gently cards his fingers through my hair. "But it could have happened."_

" _I know," I echo._

 _I had been truly upset when I thought he had died. But that is nothing compared to how I would feel now if he suddenly wasn't here anymore. Ripping him away from me is the cruellest thing anyone could do to me right now._

" _A part of me feels like I should have died that day."_

 _I pull away from him like his skin just burned me and glare at him angrier than I've ever been._

" _Don't say that!" I snap. "Don't ever say that!"_

" _Maybe that should have happened," He shrugs._

" _What?!"_

" _Listen. If that was supposed to happen, then the fact that it didn't is kind of a gift."_

" _Huh?"_

" _I didn't die. I've been given more time, and I feel the need and perhaps also the pressure, to do something amazing and productive with that time."_

" _Hence all the projects?"_

" _Yes," He nods._

 _That's a scary thought, that he could have been predestined to not make it back from the graveyard alive. The very possibility makes me skin crawl and my eyes sting._

" _I'm glad you didn't die," I whisper to him._

" _Me too," He smiles softly at me. "There's a lot of things I would have missed out on."_

 _He doesn't explicitly say it but his intense staring into my eyes makes it clear I'm one of those things._

That conversation made me angry and upset. Because a world without Cedric in it is something I don't even want to imagine, even less so at this point. There's a certain comfort to knowing that even when I'm gone, Cedric will still be here, hopefully keeping my memory alive.

It had been a horrible idea, that if fate got its way, he would have died that day. But at the same time there's a certain beauty to it then, that he didn't. Perhaps fate can be defied and outwitted. I suppose that should be a comforting fact. Not for me obviously. When fate and a prophecy combine forces for your upcoming demise, I fear there's no defying it.


End file.
